


babel

by youkanstay



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: ;), Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Detective Hwang Hyunjin, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Hwang Hyunjin-centric, I'm Bad At Tagging, Implied Sexual Content, Lee Minho | Lee Know-centric, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, OH WAIT I FORGOT MY FAVORITE TAG, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parallel Storylines, Polyamorous Character, Secret Agent Lee Minho | Lee Know, Tattoos, The Sexiest Thing I've Ever Written But Minus The Sex, Violence Is Probably Less Graphic Than I Think It Is, kind of? it'll make sense once i have more written out i promise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:07:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 31,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28968051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youkanstay/pseuds/youkanstay
Summary: Hyunjin has learned three things in the past year. In order of importance, they are:1. Everyone has a soft spot for Lee Felix. Even his hard headed, emotionless, stone cold, ruthless partner.2. Never ask Lee Minho about the scar on his left shoulder - or the tattoo that covers it.And the third,Nothing ever lasts forever.
Relationships: Bang Chan & Kim Seungmin, Bang Chan & Yang Jeongin | I.N, Han Jisung | Han & Lee Minho | Lee Know, Han Jisung | Han/Yang Jeongin | I.N, Hwang Hyunjin & Lee Minho | Lee Know, Hwang Hyunjin & Seo Changbin, Hwang Hyunjin/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Lee Felix & Lee Minho | Lee Know, Lee Minho | Lee Know & Seo Changbin, implied Seo Changbin/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 26
Kudos: 39





	1. pr0logue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [agustdwaekki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/agustdwaekki/gifts).



> now introducing, roshini enabled me to do this part 2: the long awaited hyunho spy au !

Hyunjin has learned three things in the past year. In order of importance, they are:

  1. Everyone has a soft spot for Lee Felix. Even his hard headed, emotionless, stone cold, ruthless partner.
  2. Never ask Lee Minho about the scar on his left shoulder - or the tattoo that covers it.



And the third, 

  1. Nothing ever lasts forever.



With his hands behind his back and Lee Minho standing in front of him, gun pointed straight at his head, he thinks the third might be a bit more relevant right now. 

Just a bit.

“Don’t do this, Lee Know,” he pleads, straining against his bonds. “Please don’t tell me you’re seriously considering this.”

Minho doesn’t even look at him, hands steady enough that no one would suspect a thing. Hyunjin is the only one who sees the slight tremble in his fingers and wants to scream until his throat is raw, if only to get him out of there. Minho’s eyes are focused on the man next to him.

“And if I did?” He asks, voice steadier than his hands. Hyunjin’s mouth drops open.

“Lee Know, don’t you dare!” He is shoved back for that but he doesn’t care, he just needs to stop Minho before he makes a mistake.

“We would let him go,” the man answers easily. “You know we keep our word.”

“I only know what I see,” Minho retorts, stepping forward, gun still cocked at Hyunjin. “I don’t see him being released. How can I know you’ll keep your word?”

“You’ll have access to all of the cameras that will be on him as we remove him from the premises. For security reasons, his vision will be obscured, but you will be able to see that he will be dropped off in the city again. Seoul’s a big place, I’m sure he’ll be fine once he’s left there. Do we have a deal?”

Minho takes another step forward and Hyunjin can see the resignation in his eyes. “Lee Know, don’t do—”   
  


“Shut up,” Minho snaps testily. “You really don’t know when to stop, do you?” He levels the gun again, still focused on the man standing next to Hyunjin. “Let him out, he doesn’t know anything anyway. I’m the only one that has the answers you need.”

It all happens way too fast after that for Hyunjin to keep up with it. Minho tosses his gun aside and it fires against one of the poles, a single bullet ricocheting in the empty warehouse and chiming as it hits the metal. Hyunjin is pushed to his feet, and remains bound, no matter how he strains against the chains around him. He tries in vain to get Minho to see him, but the elder simply lets his long hair serve as a wall between them, staring straight ahead and letting the man chain his hands and feet together.

The man places a firm hand on Hyunjin’s shoulder when they reach the large bay doors by the entrance. “I hope you know what he just did for you.”

He doesn’t let Hyunjin turn around to see when Minho screams—all he knows is that he’s never heard him in so much pain before.

And it’s all his fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/youkanstay) [soundtrack](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5A0PdDPn1HPquvAdEUV9Q4?si=4Q0j46tVTuugf6qsNINJlg)


	2. 1 black night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 :  
> one black night by wonder girls
> 
> 어둠이 모든 걸 삼켜 버린 사이  
> ( the darkness swallowed everything )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's the official debut hehe

_ When the suspect finally breaks down and admits they were responsible for the recent acts of domestic violence and sexual assault that have plagued the city and struck fear in the hearts of the citizens, the department praises the lead detective for a job well done and the suspect—now culprit—is sentenced to a trial that will determine his fate. _

_ “It’s relieving to see that he’s finally getting what he deserves,” Lee Daehwi, junior intern at the 19th precinct says. “To think of how unsafe he made the streets… I hope people start to feel a little safer.” _

_ Hwang Hyunjin nods, watching the detective lead the culprit out of the room in handcuffs. For someone who just confessed to such horrific transgressions, he looks almost placid as if he’s been sedated, but when he passes by Hyunjin, his eyes look entirely sober. He stares at Hyunjin morosely, as if the detective is to blame for his crimes. Hyunjin wasn’t even working on his case. “I hope so too.” _

_ Privately, he disagrees. A serial sexual assaulter being caught does nothing for overall the safety of women, children, and others deemed easy targets when there are plenty of others who would take advantage of them. He also doesn’t believe that this case is closed the way Daehwi or their department chief does. _

_ The culprit seems far too complacent for someone who was supposed to have planned out such an intricate and elaborate scheme.  _

_ To put it shortly, Hyunjin doesn’t buy it.  _

_ The real culprit clearly planned everything out so that the sexual assault cases were merely distractions—as disturbing as that is by itself—for a greater scheme that the lead detective dismissed easily enough, despite all the evidence that had to have been pointing to that. _

_ His chair is tipped backward and he flails to put his hands on the only empty space on his desk to maintain some semblance of composure. A single iced american fills his visions. He takes it suspiciously. “You don’t believe it, do you?”  _

_ Son Chaeyoung, specialized in forensics and his current partner. Also someone with a scary amount of knowledge about knife throwing. “Believe what?” _

_ She perches herself on the opposite end of his desk, eyeing the vaporwave edited poster of the FBI logo that she put up as a joke when he mentioned he only became a detective because of a childhood dream to become a spy but ended up falling in love with criminology in college. “That Seojoon found the culprit.” _

_ He scoffs, taking a sip from the iced coffee and kicking his feet up on the last bit of empty space on his cluttered desk. “Of course not.” _

_ She nods liked she had expected that, standing up and coming around the table again to look at him. “What are we doing here then?” _

_ He straightens up, bringing his feet back down. “What, you mean that we should go out and investigate?” _

_ She raises an eyebrow, tapping her fingers against his stapler. “I’m just saying Seojoon’s sexist enough for me to want to rub this one in his face. It’s a little personal.” _

_ Hyunjin nods. It isn’t like he needs much convincing either. He’s already standing up and grabbing his coat, throwing it over his shoulder, the iced americano in his other hand as he locks up their office. Chaeyoung goes ahead, spinning her keys around her finger as she waits by the car. When she spots him, she unlocks the car and gets in the driver’s seat, waving impatiently for him to hurry up. He rolls his eyes, jogging the rest of the way and closing the door a little harder than he means to in his rush. _

_ “If you break it, you can buy Mina a new car,” Chaeyoung mutters, backing the car up while looking over her shoulder, hand braced against his seat. Hyunjin pouts, opening the glove compartment to pull out a bag of gummies. The earth shaped globe ones that he likes. “Stop taking my engagement gifts, you heathen!” _

_ Hyunjin scoffs, popping a jelly in his mouth. It’s sweet. “You make it sound like that wasn’t an entirely staged engagement to draw out a suspect. You should’ve at least let Momo keep the jellies—they’re the matcha flavored ones that she likes.” _

_ Chaeyoung rolls her eyes. “Listen, kid, when you pretend to get engaged, you’ll understand the emotional connection to your engagement gifts.” _

_ “Does Mina agree with that?” Hyunjin eats another jelly out of spite, setting the bag in his lap to check the directions on the phone she hands him. “What with you guys being soulmates and all that?” _

_ Chaeyoung sighs. “It’s platonic, I’m allowed to get fake-engaged.” _

_ He raises an eyebrow, pointing his free hand to the right. “Turn onto that street. What do you mean, platonic, you guys literally made out on my kitchen counter?” _

_ She sighs, hitting the breaks when the car in front of them ignores a yield sign. He rolls his eyes. They technically could give the driver a ticket, but it’s really not a priority, especially when they only have a couple of hours left before the clean-up team comes by to take down the blockade around the crime scene. “Sure, but she never brought it up again, and I’m pretty sure she went home with Sana.” _

_ “Sana, who's actually dating your fake fiance?” Hyunjin asks, incredulous. He twists the plastic tie around the bag of jellies, tossing them back in the glove compartment. Chaeyoung hums in agreement, parking the car on the side of the road by the road. _

_ “Yeah, they have an open relationship until they feel like things are serious enough for them to consider marriage or moving in together, but I’m pretty sure Momo said they would be open to more people if both of them got along with them,” she mutters, focus shifting to the crime scene. “It’s really not that big of a deal, it’s like… we both know we like each other, but our timing is always slightly off.” _

_ Hyunjin hums at that, ducking under the yellow caution tape. “That’s not so bad, I guess…” He trails off, pointing at the corner of the shed by the alley. “Was that shed always there?” _

_ Chaeyoung joins him, staring at it. “No, that’s definitely new. It wasn’t in any of the reports. How has no one picked up on this?” _

_ Hyunjin snorts, slurping loudly from the straw, shaking the ice a little as he glances around for anything that might help them identify the origin of the shed. “How has Seojoon missed it, you mean.” _

_ She snorts, amused before stopping suddenly. Hyunjin raises an eyebrow, lowering his cup.  _ What,  _ he mouths. She tilts her head ever so slightly in the direction of the shed. _

Something’s in there, _ she mouths back. Hyunjin listens carefully, setting his cup down on the sidewalk while taking a cautious step closer. Chaeyoung pushes her blazer aside, hand on her waistband just in case. Hyunjin raises his fist before knocking on the door. _

_ There’s scrambling from inside, a clear sign that someone is in there. Hyunjin reaches forward, nodding to Chaeyoung, who removes her gun from her holster and holds it out. She takes the opposite side of the door, ready to handle whoever comes out. Hyunjin stands behind, ready to open the door.  _

_ This is just how they work; Chaeyoung is an excellent shot and has better reflexes. It’s only natural that she handles that while Hyunjin stands by to strong arm whoever comes out, if necessary.  _

On three,  _ he mouths. She nods, raising her hands.  _ One. 

_ Hyunjin grasps the door knob.  _ Two.

_ Chaeyoung levels the gun with the entrance.  _ Three. 

_ Hyunjin yanks the door open, and just as they’d planned for, the perp stumbles out brandishing a vial. He doesn’t even manage to raise his hand before Hyunjin has his arms behind their back, broken vial tossed back into the shed in the struggle. Hyunjin handcuffs them, nodding to Chaeyoung to survey the shed. She pulls out her phone, snapping pictures of everything as evidence. _

_ “Did you call it in?” _

_ He nods, phone pressed against his ear. “Just finished. Chief says they’re on her way.” _

_ Chaeyoung steps out of the shed, eyeing the perp. “And who might you be?” _

_ Black hair, rough texture, a kind of a mushroom cut. Deep set eyes and a scowl over his 5 o’clock shadow. He’s nothing impressive. He spits at Chaeyoung, who nimbly sidesteps. _

_ “Well, that’s not very polite to the people who got you out of that shed, now is it?” She muses, voice sickly sweet. Hyunjin hides a smirk. Their perp is done for _ — _ she’s pissed. “Although, I’m hardly surprised, considering how little you respect women.” _

_ The man’s eyes widen slightly, shifty looking. Bingo. He’s definitely the right culprit.  _

_ “You don’t know what you’re messing with,” the culprit mutters darkly. “Who you’re messing with. They’ll kill you.” _

_ Hyunjin slurps obnoxiously loudly from his cup, the iced americano nearly empty save for the slowly melting ice cubes that remain. Chaeyoung snorts, phone flashlight shining on the contents of the shed. “We’ll take our chances, thank you very much.” _

_ The man laughs at this, an unnerving bark. The sound of approaching sirens drowns it out before Hyunjin gives into the urge to punch the man for the way he keeps looking at his partner. He settles for standing between them, blocking his view as best as he can. _

_ “No way,” Chaeyoung breathes. She taps his shoulder, signalling for him to turn around. “Hwang, do you recognize any of these?” _

_ “Aren’t you the forensics specialist?” He asks even if he already knows it’s true, but he’s already turning around to check, stepping aside so she can keep an eye on the man. He peeks into the shed, eyeing the vials that line shelves on one side. Each vial is filled with a bright liquid that glows faintly in the dim light of the shed. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard of any chemicals that glow like that _ — _ although he does remember that plutonium glows in a similar amber color. But the man wears no protective gear, so he doubts there’s anything radioactive in nature to concern himself with. “I’ve never seen anything like this before, though.” _

_ Chaeyoung smirks, smug as she nods. “Exactly. Who knew Seojoon had managed to overlook an entire illegal chemical peddling ring?” _

_ Oh, she’s good. _

_ Their man looks around, brows furrowed but still managing to look angry. Hyunjin pauses for a second, reclaiming his spot between the man and his partner. Does he not know what he was protecting?  _

_ An inconspicuous glance over the man tells him that he isn’t on drugs or otherwise inebriated, but there’s still something off about the situation. He just can’t put his finger on it. _

_ The arrival of the rest of the police force prevents him from further contemplating it as he gets the man in the car, reading his rights to him before closing the door. The chief is waiting for him, standing with a proud Chaeyoung. _

_ “Congratulations on perfecting your already perfect record, Hwang,” Chief Park announces, nodding at his partner as well. “Son.” _

_ Chaeyoung schools her expression into something more neutral and nods back at him. “Yes, Chief.” _

_ “Everything checks out,” she tells Hyunjin as he walks away, both of them watching the police brigade slowly trickle out after collecting evidence. “Both of them are guilty of something, but the connection between the two is unmistakable. Seojoon messed up; he’s dealing with files for the next three weeks. Jihyo has a petition to put him on probation—you better be signing it.” _

_ He nods, opening the car door to the passenger side and sitting down. He takes extra care to close it more gently this time, even though the first time it had slammed shut had been an accident. “Of course.” He means it, too. Seojoon has been the bane of his existence since he first started working, always complaining about how the younger man was not fit for his job or something along those lines. Unfortunately for the senior detective, Hyunjin is a natural at picking up the bigger picture and with Chaeyoung at his side, the two of them are quite infamous for their perfect record. _

_ “Also, we’re going out to celebrate this,” she informs him, putting the car in reverse before he can refuse. “You get to play wingman for me, because Mina said she would stop by.” _

_ Hyunjin snorts, turning the volume dial up slightly, the synth of a Wonder Girls song familiar after a long day. “Not like you needed my help when you stuck your tongue down her throat. I honestly think we were all lucky she wore a bodysuit that day.” _

_ Chaeyoung feigns offense as she spares him a glance when the traffic light turns red, easing the car to a stop behind the white line. “Hey, what’s that supposed to mean? I’ll have you know that if I wanted to actually have sex with her on your counter, I would have figured out a way to take it off, among other things, of course.” _

_ Hyunjin makes a face, fingers slipping and accidentally setting the volume higher than intended, voice shrill when he speaks. “I did not need that mental image. Oh my god,  _ gross _ , why are you like this?” _

_ She cackles, pushing her sunglasses up through her hair and grinning. “You were asking for it.” _

_ Hyunjin will stand by the statement that he was not asking for it, but she’s turning the car off and locking it behind her in the parking lot behind BTS, their local bar, and the only one that Hyunjin has almost been banned from. Though by no fault of his own, of course. He can’t blame the owners for being upset that a chase involving a suspect and a gun had blessed up the bar a bit, but Hyunjin had offered to stay back and help clean up after they had gotten the suspect put away. It’s not his fault that Jimin and Yoongi were both so salty about the situation. Hyunjin privately blames the unresolved sexual tension between the two. _

_ “If Yoongi or Jimin see me, you know they’ll kick me out,” Hyunjin calls as he hurries to close the door and catch up with his partner. “Chaeyoung? Chaeyoung?” He exhales harshly. “You did this on purpose, I swear.” _

_ The bar is far from empty, but it isn’t as full as it gets during happy hour. A purple glow settles over the dance floor, as it always, and he recognizes one of the regulars as his favorite bartender’s infatuation; a man around his height with silver waves and a bandana tied around his forehead, piercing brown eyes, and quite possibly the biggest hands Hyunjin has accidentally stepped on. _

_ (Once, the same night that he was chasing down a suspect. Jungkook had the nerve to ask him if he had asked the man for his number after that. Hyunjin had pointed out that he had been in the middle of chasing a  _ criminal. _ ) _

_ The counters are noticeably emptier though, and he takes the opportunity to sink onto a barstool and pout at the counter, hoping that he looks pitiful enough that the owners don’t throw him out. “I hate you,” he mutters to the wood counter, picturing Chaeyoung’s face on it instead.  _

_ His partner laughs brightly, handing him a green cocktail. “It’s something with mint and chocolate, somehow. Jin said that Jungkook told him to recommend it to you when I asked, so you should like it.” _

_ He takes it warily, begrudgingly accepting the drink. “Where’s Mina?” _

_ “On her way,” Chaeyoung murmurs mindlessly, biting her lip. “You don’t think I’m dressed up enough for this, do you? It’s so clear I just came from work, and she’ll probably be dressed really well—” _

_ Not that Hyunjin can disagree with that, but Mina works closely with Jihyo, their district attorney. He doubts that she would judge his partner for coming straight from work, but that’s clearly something that Chaeyoung is worried about. _

_ “She won’t mind,” Hyunjin shrugs, taking a sip from the drink. “Wait, this is nonalcoholic?” _

_ She giggles, albeit nervously. “Namjoon said that there was someone waiting to talk to you. His friend’s boyfriend, something about the case? I think he might be a private investigator from one of the girls’ families.”  _

_ That makes sense. Still, he does pout a little harder when he realizes that means he’ll probably be sober through the rest of the night. So much for letting loose and having some fun after such a draining case and picking up after Seojoon’s ineptitude. _

_ “Mina’s here,” he reminds her, noticing the prosecutor approaching. He raises an eyebrow at Chaeyoung, who is predictably speechless. “She looks good.” _

_ His partner slaps his arm for that, which okay, that’s fair. He was just teasing anyway, though he can appreciate how well her outfit matches. A cheetah print bodysuit—Hyunjin shudders at the flashbacks of that night on his kitchen counter—black leather pants paired with dark tan suede boots and a black velvet blazer. _

_ If it wasn’t a bodysuit, Hyunjin would want to try out the outfit , but after seeing the way his normally collected partner is practically drooling at the sight of it, he is rethinking that idea. _

_ “Your partner’s going to fall off her seat if she keeps that up.” _

_ Hyunjin turns around, righting Chaeyoung before turning his attention to the unfamiliar man that had spoken. Under the warm purple light, he thinks the stranger resembles himself, in certain angles. He takes another sip from the drink, mentally making a note to thank Jungkook the next time he comes here. _

_ “Thanks,” he mutters, a beat late, waiting for the man to fill the silence. _

_ “Jinyoung,” he answers. “Park Jinyoung, but that’s my boss’s name, so I prefer just Jinyoung.” _

_ “Hwang Hyunjin,” the detective offers. “How can I help you?” _

_ The man nods at Hoseok, the other bartender. The man nods, flashing a forced smile at Jinyoung before leaving them alone to talk. Hyunjin notices that the music gets louder after that, but it’s not by too much.  _

_ So, Jinyoung wants privacy? _

_ “I can’t disclose the details of the case until it’s been processed,” Hyunjin admits, though it’s not all that apologetic. He doesn’t even know the man; there’s no obligation to tell him anything.  _

_ Jinyoung shakes his head, his perfectly styled hair not even moving at the movement. How much hair spray has the guy covered it with to keep it in place? “That’s not what I’m here for.” _

_ Hyunjin raises an eyebrow, finishing his drink and setting the glass down against the table. Hoseok slips by once to take it away, offering an apologetic smile at the detective when he doesn’t offer to refill it. _

_ Just who is Jinyoung? _

_ “Then? I’d make it quick—I was supposed to be celebrating with my partner.” Jinyoung winces, leaning to the side slightly before making a face. _

_ “I’d say she’s already started without you,” he offers, face still contorted in disgust. Hyunjin whirls around, accidentally hitting his knee against the counter in his haste before spinning back around just as quickly, but it’s no use. The image of Mina tugging his professional partner’s shirt off is ingrained in his brain. _

_ As if last time wasn’t bad enough, he can’t even get drunk and forget about it. _

_ “Not again,” he mutters to himself, but Jinyoung hears him and offers a polite chuckle, still clearly uncomfortable with the vigorous PDA Chaeyoung and Mina have deemed appropriate. He wonders why no one is stopping them, but catches sight of Jungkook serving drinks to his mystery man (the one with the big hands Hyunjin crushed, but thankfully, did not break) and no other bartender available to break them up. _

_ “Yes, well, that’s lovely,” he grumbles. “But if you’re not here for the assault and trafficking case, what exactly do you want from me? I’m not a private investigator, if you’re looking for someone to find your skeletons in someone else’s closet.” _

_ Jinyoung waves that off as if it holds no merit. “Nothing of the sort. I’m here with a different kind of offer.” _

_ “You can’t pay me for sex,” he sputters out, almost knocking the glass over. “I  _ just  _ solved a case on trafficking and assault and you’re trying to buy my body?” _

_ Jinyoung’s eyes widen as he must inevitably realize what his words implied. Hyunjin is halfway to standing up when Jinyoung pushes him back down with a hand to his wrist. “I apologize. That was not what I had in mind either. Consider this a professional opportunity. A promotion, if you will. Are you familiar with S.T.R.A.Y?” _

_ Is he? Admittedly, he does know a bit more about the agency than a layperson, but that is only because of his profession. An underground agency that works with the government, but only barely. He doesn’t even know what it stands for. _

_ He shakes his head, tapping his fingers aimlessly against the overly lacquered wood counter. “Strategic Tactical Representative Agency. We work primarily with threats to civil society.” _

_ Hyunjin can’t help but find him pretentious, as if using language like that would make him more credible. The man seems decent enough, if a little impractical in his speech mannerisms. It certainly does help Jinyoung’s case that Hyunjin has heard of the S.T.R.A.Y, but not by enough to convince him to trust him. _

_ As if sensing this lack of trust, Jinyoung pulls out his wallet, holding a badge out for Hyunjin to inspect. “Detective Hwang, S.T.R.A.Y would be honored to work with you, if you would let us, of course.” _

_ Well. _

_ See, there has always been this part of Hyunjin that has wished for more. He loves being a detective, loved studying criminology while attending university, loves working with Chaeyoung too—he really couldn’t have gotten assigned to a better partner—but he has always wished for more. To make a bigger difference than to just deal with the low level threats his precinct handles. And it's no fault of the police department, which is surprisingly capable, but the truth is, he just lives in a good neighborhood. Not that this is a bad thing, but it does mean that the threats are running free and terrorizing other departments while everyone at his precinct handles the simpler side of life. _

_ Granted, suspect chases are adrenaline rushes, but this last case has been his biggest contribution and it’s been a year since he started working here fresh out of university. Even Chaeyoung always complains that it’s hard to keep the people safe when limited by division boundaries.  _

_ “Why me?” He settles on asking, pushing the badge back across the counter with a single finger, holding back his smirk when Jinyoung grimaces at the way the wallet picks up on the smudges. “You say you don’t want to know anything about my case, but then you say you want to recruit me. This is S.T.R.A.Y’s discipline, isn’t it?” _

_ “We don’t need you to tell us anything about your case, that is correct,” Jinyoung agrees, speaking a little faster as if he is now noticing for the first time the glares he is getting from the bartenders. “We know everything we need to know about this case—we would like to recruit you because of your skillset. You’re truly remarkable and your area of expertise would benefit everyone involved. You would have a shorter training period as well—one of our… best agents is in need of a partner.” _

_ Hyunjin doesn’t miss the hesitation before he claims his apparent future partner is the best. He stops tapping the counter, pressing his fingers flat against it instead. “You don’t sound too sure about them being the best.” _

_ Jinyoung chuckles once, nervously. “It’s not that he isn’t lucky; his methods are a bit… unorthodox, to say the least. He gets the job done, of course, and he’s a very versatile and efficient agent, but his judgement can be a bit poor at times. He could use someone rational like you to balance him out.” _

_ Hyunjin straightens and makes to stand up, raising a hand when Jinyoung opens his mouth to protest. “I have no problems joining the agency, even if I am skeptical about why you chose me. I’ll leave that to your discretion, but I do have an issue with leaving my partner in the dark.” _

_ “We’ve already let your chief and district attorney know,” Jinyoung admits, standing up as well. “I’ll admit Jihyo scares me a bit, but she said that she trusted that you were in good hands. Chief Park didn’t even sound surprised, according to my superior.” _

_ Hyunjin will be the first to admit that something doesn’t sound correct about that statement, but if what Jinyoung says is true, then he’s not the terrible liar in question. He waves at Jungkook on his way out, making sure to flash him a pair of corny finger guns right as his pretty man leans forward, smirking when the bartender flushes bright red, mouthing curses as Hyunjin cackles quietly on his way out. _

_ He isn’t surprised by Jinyoung’s black car, a sedan type model that he’s grown familiar with seeing on his movie nights with Yeji from all the B-rate spy movies she keeps making him watch. Jinyoung seems to be a cliche, in all senses of the word, so it’s no surprise that he would conform so closely to these stereotypes. _

_ The interior of the car is well kept, with no sign of anything out of place. Hyunjin takes a seat in the back, not particularly comfortable with sitting in the front anyway. Jinyoung doesn’t bat an eye at this, simply starting the car when he hears the click of a seatbelt from the back seat. “The drive should take around an hour,” he informs Hyunjin without turning around, both hands placed perfectly on the steering wheel and ten and two. “We will be arriving at headquarters around one a.m.” _

_ “Is it not in Seoul?”  _

_ Jinyoung is quiet for a second, exaggerated only by the silence as all the cars pull to a stop at the red traffic light. “Not exactly.” _

_ Hyunjin doesn’t ask anymore after that. He can tell that Jinyoung is evading, and if he doesn’t have any intentions of answering his questions, Hyunjin has no intentions of asking further.  _

_ The car ride is silent—it’s been years since he’s sat in such silence for so long, usually preferring to talk to Chaeyoung if they’re traveling for work, or just have the radio on so things don’t get uncomfortable. _

_ Unfortunately for him, Jinyoung seems to thrive in this kind of uncomfortable atmosphere. He focuses entirely on his driving, to the point where Hyunjin almost falls asleep in the back, if not for his worries that Jinyoung can not be trusted.  _

_ The city lights have faded by the time Jinyoung pulls onto a single black panel, backlit with red light. The car settles onto the elevator panel and Hyunjin will be lying if the lack of guardrails don’t make him a bit anxious as the elevator descends at least eight stories down. Jinyoung eases the car off the platform, neatly parking it in such a way that Hyunjin can get an idea for the layout of the place. _

_ The facility itself seems to be hollow in the center, with the various stories empty in the center. It goes down further than expects it to, another three stories below them before the first full floor. That level is filled with the various agents, the red and blue glows of the screens casting a cyberpunk appeal to the otherwise gritty atmosphere. Despite how sleek everything is, there is still a sense of unfinishedness. The doors are scratched, and the labels are often missing.  _

_ When Jinyoung catches him looking, he offers a cordial smile. “There was an incident a couple of days ago. We’ve been working to repair what we can, but that team appears to be a bit behind schedule.” _

_ Interesting. _

_ “The agency has agreed to expedite your training, but we will be going over your basic physicals and training in the next week,” Jinyoung announces, striding down the carpeted—why is it carpeted?—hallway and leaving Hyunjin to follow. “After that, your partner is responsible for your training, but if you feel like he is… lacking, you can always contact my superiors about it and they’ll handle it. He can be a bit difficult, but I doubt this is something he would jeopardize.” _

_ Hyunjin makes a face at the burgundy carpet. Somehow, he always pictured a spy agency to be a bit more refined, a little more sophisticated. This looks like a poor hotel knockoff. “You sound like you know him personally,” he says, sidestepping a suspicious grey stain with a frown.  _

_ Jinyoung laughs mirthlessly. It’s ruder than Hyunjin would have thought possible from the man, especially given how stuck up he comes off. “Hardly. No one knows him personally, really. His former mentee was extremely successful, but he never applied to be his partner.” _

_ Was? “Did something happen to the mentee?” _

_ JInyoung leads them down another hallway to the right, further into the agency. Hyunjin is starting to realize that the hollowed out center must be a hub of sorts—and that the agency headquarters is bigger than he expected them to be. “No, his mentee only required more basic field training because he applied to be tech support after a mission went wrong. His anxiety made it harder for him to handle higher stress physical operations, understandably, and they parted on good terms. Well, as good as terms can be with him, I suppose.” _

_ Hyunjin would like to point out that Jinyoung is only talking his future partner down, all while trying to convince him of how he’s made the right decision in choosing to cooperate with the agency. “That’s good though, isn’t it?” _

_ Jinyoung nods, turning left this time and taking them up a flight of stairs. Everything is more industrial on this floor, with no signs of that hideous carpet either. “It is, don’t get me wrong. Your partner is a private man is all I’m saying.” _

_ It sounds like he’s saying more than just that, but Hyunjin doesn’t want to defend someone he doesn’t know, lest he be wrong. He simply nods curtly, following Jinyoung quietly until the agent stops at a door. He turns around and holds out a key to Hyunjin. “I do apologize, for whatever reason, he insists on staying up here rather than residing with the other agents. He has been here for fairly long, so I suppose no one ever thought to change it, but I’m sure if the accommodations do not meet your expectations, then we can arrange for something else.” _

_ Hyunjin takes the key from him, the metal a dull, cold, pressure against his palm. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.” _

_ “Our agents will bring you what they deem necessary from your apartment by tomorrow morning,” is the last thing Jinyoung leaves him. _

_ And then it’s just Hyunjin and an empty hallway. _

_ He turns the key in the lock, noting that the click is faint enough that it would be hard to hear if he weren’t listening specifically for it. It isn’t surprising, but it does seem a bit suspicious. The room itself isn’t anywhere near as bad as he was expecting from the way Jinyoung made it seem, but it looks to be normal enough, if a bit bare and empty. He thinks it might be the industrial look, but the bottom bunk doesn’t even have sheets put on it.  _

_ Was he supposed to bring his own?  _

_ He scans the layout quickly—the bunk beds are stacked in the right hand side of the room, overlapping over around half a foot of a barred window. A desk stands two feet from the beds, taking up the space to the end of the wall. The walls are a dark grey, the same color as the steel bed frames and the desk and chair legs. The desk itself is a sleek black metal, just as cold to the touch as the key in his hand. The wall opposite the beds is empty with the exception of a safe built into the wall, likely for weapons and other confidential information. He makes a mental reminder to ask his partner about the code whenever he sees him. _

_ At the foot of the bed is a door that branches off to a minimalist shower—and really, calling it minimalist is generous. The shower itself is a single showerhead that hangs directly from the ceiling and the shower stall is only separated from the toilet and the sink by a single clear glass wall—not even frosted glass—that cuts a sharp, but short corner to prevent the water from getting everywhere. The floor itself feels like a kind of cement, raised six inches to create a threshold to further keep the water in.  _

_ Everything is the same dark grey, with the exception of the white toilet and sink, and the single rectangular mirror that hangs above it. A single glance in the mirror tells him that the bathroom was clearly meant for one—he can see everything in the shower ‘stall’ without trying. _

_ No privacy whatsoever, huh? He hopes his partner won’t mind that too much, although the man did pick the room first, so he’s probably fine with it.  _

_ The closet is threadbare, only a few t-shirts and pants that indicate his partner’s pre-existing presence in the room. It is composed of wooden shelves, a dark walnut color with steel pipes holding them up and connecting them together. Industrialism is clearly a theme for the room, but he thinks the excessive grey might be growing on him. There’s no sign of personalization anywhere, or any personal belongings other than the clothes he saw. _

_ So. This is his new life? _

_ It doesn’t sound all that bad. _

* 🗡 . ☣ . ☠ *

The bright colorful lights of Seoul are entirely too much when he pulls the blindfold off. Stupid, he’s so so stupid for letting this happen. It’s all his fault, and now, he’s screwed up big time.

He takes stock of what he has with him, but it quickly turns into realizing what he’s missing. The Syndicate had taken his phone and any means of contacting the agency, so he’s now stranded somewhere in Seoul, in the middle of the night, with no way of figuring things out, since there was a rule to never take their wallets with them on missions.

In his defense, this hadn’t been a mission, but a kidnapping, but he doubts Chan will accept that from him. He knows he should be worried about breaking the news to Changbin and Jisung, especially Changbin, but he isn’t blind to the tension between his partner and Chan. He’ll be lucky enough to get away with escaping, let alone telling them that Minho took his place.

He can’t get Minho’s broken gaze out of his head, his normally fiery gaze reduced to a resigned dimness that didn’t sit right with him. He’s tempted to just sit there and cry—it’s not like anyone here will notice. The Syndicate seems to have brought him to a center of nightlife, he doubts they’ll pick him out amongst the other people drunk enough to stumble to sleep in the streets. 

Stupid, really. How could he let this happen?

No, he needs to focus. He messed up, so he’s going to be the one who fixes things. He needs to find a phone and call Changbin first.

This is easier said than done. All calls to the agency are being traced by the Syndicate, but something tells him they want him to call. The Syndicate clearly doesn’t plan on attacking the agency directly, even if they are trying to destroy them from within.

Hyunjin curses, almost knocking over an innocent lady walking in the opposite direction, phone in hand. He blames the uneven side roads for it before it hits him.

_ Phone in hand. _

“Excuse me,” he hurries over to her, standing a respectful distance away from her so that she doesn’t get the wrong idea. “I was supposed to meet my friend here, but he’s running late and I left my phone at home. Would you mind if I borrowed yours to call him and make sure he’s okay?”

She blinks up at him, clearly surprised but nods slowly anyway, holding her phone out. When he takes it with a thankful smile, she steps back, gaze tracking his every move, hands coming up to clutch at opposite elbows to try and stay warm. 

He has Minho’s number memorized, and has never been more thankful that his partner leaves his personal phone with his best friend when going on missions.

_ Not that this was a mission _ , he thinks bitterly. This was Minho cleaning up his mess and taking the fall for it. What if he hadn’t left his phone with Changbin after all?

“Are you going to call him?” The lady asks, voice higher than he expected it to be. 

He blinks, shaking out of it. “Right, yeah, sorry. Got his number mixed up with someone else, one second.”

She nods, and he turns away, fingers trembling slightly as he types out Minho’s number on the phone screen, fingers stiff from the cold.

The phone doesn’t even ring once fully before it’s answered, and Hyunjin swears under his breath in relief.  _ “How did you get this number?” _

“Changbin, it’s me, Hyunjin,” he cuts the elder off, keeping his voice low and turning further to the side, subtly enough that the lady won’t think too much of it. “We were going to meet tonight, remember? I got a little lost, can you meet me here?”

_ “Hyunjin, what are you—” _

“I forgot my phone at home, so I borrowed someone else’s to call you—it would be easier if you just came and got me; I really don’t think giving me directions again would help.”

_ “What happened? Hyunjin, where’s Minho?” _

“I’m not entirely sure,” he admits carefully. “I honestly don’t know where I am.” He turns to the lady, raising his eyebrows in question with a polite smile. She gives him their address, which he rattles off to Changbin. 

_ “You have a lot of explaining to do.”  _ Changbin ends the call abruptly, leaving Hyunjin to sigh deeply before handing the phone back to the lady and tucking his hands in his pockets while he waits. He assumes that Changbin is on his way, even if the elder didn’t say anything, mostly because even with the address, he has no idea where he is. Minho was the one between the two of them who used to know places like the back of his hand, with his previous expanse of experience. Hyunjin rarely left his neighborhood for cases prior to being recruited by S.T.R.A.Y.

In the nineteen minutes it takes Changbin to get there, Hyunjin familiarizes himself with the location, just in case. The street across from him is lined with clubs, each one flashier than the next, the neon lights bright enough to give him a headache if he stares too long to try and decipher their names. 

The street he stands on is full of cafes and restaurants that appear to have all closed early, the dark row contrasting with the disco across from it. Street vendors and food stands dip into the sidewalk and street on his side, a little less than a block down, their noise and flickering signs making up for the pitch black of the closed establishments.

“Explain.”

Hyunjin nearly jumps out of his skin at the cold word, scrambling to his feet to find Changbin, dressed in a leather jacket, a deep purple hoodie that he thinks might be Minho’s, utility joggers, and his usual pair of boots. It’s a far cry from his mission gear, but also different enough from what he normally wears that Hyunjin thinks he might have been planning on going out.

What had Minho told him?

“What did Minho tell you?” He asks instead, unsure of how to proceed. 

Changbin shrugs, gesturing for Hyunjin to get into the car before they discussed things. The elder tosses him the keys, getting into the passenger seat instead. “You’re driving, I had a beer a while back.”

“Sorry,” Hyunjin mumbles. 

Changbin shrugs again, buckling his seatbelt without saying a word. “What happened?”

“I got caught?” Hyunjin starts the ignition, adjusting the mirrors with one hand as he rolls the car backward smoothly. 

“How did you get out?” Changbin opens the glove compartment, pulling out a stick of gum. Its cinnamon scent fills the car, making Hyunjin wrinkle his nose at how strong it is. “The Syndicate doesn’t negotiate.”

Hyunjin slams the brakes, neck bending painfully at the sudden motion. Changbin doesn’t fare much better, glaring at him. “I thought you knew how to drive?”

He eases off the breaks, flicking his indicator on before turning off the street at Changbin’s direction. “Do you really not care or is this normal?”

“What, getting caught? No. I do care, but you got out and you don’t seem to have any injuries other than the bruises around your wrists. Do you want me to fuss over you or something?”

Hyunjin snorts, foot pressing against the accelerator when they reach the freeway ramp. “I see why you and Minho get along so well.”

Changbin outright laughs at that, kicking his feet up on the dashboard, boots and all. “It’s cute that you think that Minho doesn’t care, but trust me, his problem is that he cares too much.” He sobers up, dropping his feet back down. “Hyunjin. If you’re not okay, you would tell me, right? I assumed you were fine because you didn’t say anything, are you okay?”

Hyunjin scoffs wetly at that. “You shouldn’t be asking me that. I screwed up.”

Changbin raises his eyebrows, turning from looking out the windshield to stare at the younger. “You still haven’t told me what happened.”

_ Because you’ll hate me if I do, _ Hyunjin thinks.  _ And I really don’t want you to hate me, but I really screwed up this time. _

“Hey, why’d you call Minho’s phone anyway? He said he was going for a run outside of the compound and he forgot it in my room, I guess, but did you really forget yours too?”

Hyunjin switches lanes, foot pressing harder against the accelerator in frustration. “Are you really not going to ask me how I got out of there?”

Changbin pauses and Hyunjin turns away from the road slightly, just in time to see his moment of realization. “I thought you got caught up in getting away and had to hide,” he says slowly, each word precisely chosen. “But that’s not it, is it?”

Hyunjin shakes his head miserably, the cars and their bright headlights swimming in his teary vision. He blinks to clear it—he doesn’t deserve to cry over this. It’s his fault; he needs to take responsibility for it and get Minho back.

“Minho and I couldn’t agree on how to handle the mission,” he admits shamefully, heat rising to his ears and cheeks. “We disagreed and ended up splitting up because he said I wasn’t ready to be trying to lead things—and he was right. The Syndicate’s intelligence operatives caught on to me before I walked in, because they were ready. They knocked me out and dragged me to some warehouse; I was out cold, so I don’t even know how far it is.”

Changbin points at the exit ramp, nodding at Hyunjin to continue as he switches lanes to take the exit. “But you got out.”

It’s not as sure as a statement, but there’s doubt about it—he’s right there, which is enough proof that it’s true. “I got out,” he agrees, easing up on the accelerator as the exit tapers off to a residential street. “They dropped me off here, but I was blinded the entire time, so I have no idea where the warehouse was. All I know is that it’s a little further out in an open space, but I guess that’s obvious.”

Changbin nearly chokes on his gum, holding up his hand to stop the younger. “Wait, what do you mean, they dropped you off? Are you being tracked?”

Hyunjin shakes his head, recognizing the streets once more and following the car’s GPS. “I checked. They don’t seem to care about where the agency is; I’m clean.”

“But they just—dropped you off here?” The question is incredulous, and even as he hears it, Hyunjin is reminded of just how sideways things have gone.

Here is the part he has been avoiding diligently, because he really doesn’t want to admit to himself that his partner sacrificed himself for him or to Changbin that he’s the reason his best friend is suffering. It doesn’t even make sense to him, because really, Minho has been nothing but clear that he hates his guts and thinks that Hyunjin is nothing but a deadweight, but—

But. He has to take responsibility, right? That’s the only way he can fix things. So he exhales sharply, holding his breath as he turns into the empty airbase, rolling the car onto the elevator panel. 

“Minho took my place.”

* 🗡 . ☣ . ☠ *

_ The agency expedites his training course, sending him through rigorous physical and psychological training that has him forcing himself to not collapse in his bed and actually shower so that he doesn’t stink up their room. _

_ Ah, yes, their. _

_ He’s sharing a room with someone—Jinyoung claimed that he had already been partnered with someone and that all of his training would mostly be a formality, considering how experienced his partner was—but he has yet to see him. All he knows is that the man is a little over a year older than him, highly respected at the agency despite his questionable methods and unorthodox ways, and noticeably absent. He hasn’t even seen Jinyoung again to ask him if his partner actually exists or if this is just another psychological test. _

_ “Oh.” An unfamiliar voice stops him in his tracks, hastily pulling the towel up higher on his waist from where he had previously been about to remove it to dry off and change. He spins around to see who’s spoken, and he’s frozen for a second. _

_ Long wavy dark brown hair that curls a little past his ears with a single braid such that it’s tucked behind his pierced ear, broad shoulders—though they aren’t quite as broad as Chan’s—and muscular thighs that have Hyunjin looking up hastily before his expression betrays his thoughts outwardly. His eyes are the sharpest contrast, wide and sparkly, innocent in a way that feels like a dichotomy that exists with the sole purpose of mocking him. _

_ Whoever he is, Hyunjin doesn’t think he will ever get used to how good he looks.  _

_ “You must be the new partner,” he says, looking Hyunjin up and down and, oh—is he shorter than Hyunjin? That’s intriguing. And a little adorable, he can admit privately. Though Hyunjin doubts the minor lack of height makes a difference when he’s as intimidating as he looks. _

_ “Lee Minho,” the man says, disinterestedly, eyeing Hyunjin warily. _

_ “Hwang Hyunjin,” he states, holding his hand out. Minho grimaces, gaze swinging from the hand to something lower and then back again. Hyunjin blinks, eyes widening. “Oh, sorry, is that not a thing you do? I—” _

_ MInho shakes his head, blinking slowly and tilting his head as he leans against the door frame. “It’s not that.” He looks down again, and this time, Hyunjin doubts it’s to see how wet he’s gotten the floor and— _

_ His towel has almost fallen off. He hastily tugs it back up, retracting his hand to scratch his neck lightly, ears heating up. “Sorry, didn’t mean to uh, flash you, or anything like that. It’s just, well, I’ve been here for a month and I was starting to think you didn’t exist.” He stops when Minho straightens his head, eyes widening. “Not that you don’t, I mean, obviously, you do, I just thought that maybe the partner that was never here was supposed to be a psychological test or something, and didn’t want to ask because that would mean that I failed the test—” _

_ “Do you normally strip in public?” Minho’s voice is oddly… pleasant? It’s higher pitched and softer than Hyunjin expected from the way he looks and how he presents himself. It’s also, quite possibly, the prettiest voice he’s ever heard, and he used to hear Mina and Chaeoung harmonizing together on karaoke night sounding like angels to his drunk mind. Hyunjin expected something harsher to match how intimidating and strong he looks, but instead, Minho’s voice is comforting, like a soft throw blanket on a rainy day. _

_ He blinks again, nodding. “No, why?” _

_ MInho shakes his head, straightening from the door frame and closing the door behind him. Hyunjin didn’t even realize it was open and ah, Minho’s question makes more sense now. “You aren’t a psychological test though, are you?” _

_ Minho laughs mirthlessly, but it isn’t mean. “For a detective, you’re kind of dumb, aren’t you?” _

_ Okay, so it’s a little mean, but he must have his reasons, right? _

_ Hyunjin huffs. “Look, we haven’t all been trained the way you have. I don’t know how things work around here, Jinyoung told me my partner would explain everything I needed to know but uh, you weren’t there.” He pauses, staring at the bunk beds. “Would you mind turning around?” _

_ Minho rolls his eyes but does it anyway. Hyunjin changes hurriedly, tossing his towel on his head and half heartedly drying it. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you’re here now.” _

_ Minho is lying back on the bed, hand thrown over his eyes. The mattress is noticeably still missing sheets, since Hyunjin took the liberty of taking the top bunk after finding out that it had sheets. He had later noticed a note on the desk about the bunk being for him anyway, but it still felt weird to see the bottom bunk so bare, like he’s never slept there a day in his life. “You talk a lot.” _

_ Hyunjin falters, pulling the desk chair out to sit on it backwards. “Well—you don’t talk.” _

_ Minho sits up, hair falling messily over his face. Hyunjin gulps—how does he manage to look so effortlessly good without trying? “What do you want me to say?” _

_ “How do things work around here? Any rules I should follow?” Hyunjin regrets asking the second one when Minho raises a challenging eyebrow at him, leaning back against his arms with palms braced flat behind him. _

_ “Rules?” _

_ Hyunjin nods, leaning forward to rest his chin on the back of the chair. It’s hard and pointy and not particularly comfortable but he’s so sore he’ll take any comfort he can get. “Rules, advice, anything you, as my  _ sunbae  _ have to offer.” _

_ Minho scoffs. “Don’t call me that, there’s no seniority here.” _

_ “Even though you’ve been here much longer than me?” _

_ Minho tilts his head appraisingly. “I doubt experience will be much of a problem, Detective.” _

_ Hyunjin disagrees, but then again, who is he to question Minho’s methods? He is a little surprised that Minho knows who he is and briefly wonders if the elder had been ignoring him on purpose. After all, hadn’t Jinyoung mentioned that his previous mentee had rejected wanting to be his partner? Granted, the anxiety was one thing, but maybe his mentee hadn’t thought Minho to be an ideal partner? “As for rules… Be careful with who you trust, obviously. Most things are gained through personal experience and remain personal. There’s nothing I can tell you that will even help you—you just have to figure it out for yourself.” _

_ He leans back again, lying flat on the mattress. Hyunjin stares at him, unblinkingly.  _

_ “Stop staring.” _

_ He huffs, hooking his feet around the legs of the chair. Jisung’s face flashes through his mind. “Did you even want a partner?” _

_ Minho doesn’t say anything for long enough that Hyunjin begins to wonder if he screwed up by asking that. Was it too personal for their first meeting?  _

_ “I needed a partner if I wanted to continue working,” he admits blankly. “And you’re a rookie at all this—you’re more likely the one that needed a partner more than anything. As much as I hate to admit it, they brought you here because I had no other options.” _

_ That’s fair, but Hyunjin still wishes he had better advice for him. He’s flying blind and Minho has clearly been through it. His experience could very well help Hyunjin, but he has to give his partner some credit for being so stubborn. _

_ “When do we start training then?” Hyunjin asks, lifting the towel from where he’s draped it around his neck to dry his hair better, the dripping water leaving him cold. “Or is that not a thing we do?” _

_ Minho rolls his eyes, eyeing Hyunjin’s wet hair. “That is a ‘thing we do,’ yes,” he agrees. “Training starts early in the morning. Six A.M sharp. Meet me in the rings downstairs—I trust you know where that is?” _

_ Hyunjin nods, wet hair falling into his eyes. “Yeah, Chan showed me.” Minho’s expression shifts slightly at that, a scowl that disappears so fast Hyunjin thinks he imagined it. _

_ “Good for Chan,” Minho mutters bitterly under his breath, running a hand through his hair before he speaks again, louder this time. Hyunjin is embarrassed to admit that he’s too captivated with his hair to remember to listen, wincing before he asks Minho to repeat whatever he said. _

_ Minho raises an eyebrow unimpressed. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” _

_ He doesn’t say anything else before he gets up—and that’s when Hyunjin gets it. “Wait, isn’t this your room too?” _

_ Minho shrugs. “So?” _

_ Hyunjin struggles to turn the chair and ends up giving up on it, standing up and almost tripping over it instead. “It’s almost eleven, aren’t you going to sleep here?” _ _  
  
_

_ “I’ll be staying with a friend,” Minho mutters, biting his lip. “It’s not a big deal; don’t take it too personally.” _

_ Hyunjin frowns, detangling himself from the chair. “Did I do something wrong?” _

_ Minho crosses his arms, leaning against the metal ladder. “That’s the opposite of not taking it personally.” _

_ “No, it’s just—I get if you’re busy, but we are supposed to be partners. It took you a month to actually get back to your room; how are we supposed to work together if we don’t even know each other?” _

_ It’s the wrong thing to say. Hyunjin thinks there will be a lot of that with Minho—the man seems like the kind of person to have exceedingly high expectations for everything in life.  _

_ “We don’t need to get to know each other,” Minho snaps coldly, standing up and walking out of there, ignoring Hyunjin’s protests that his question was entirely valid. _

_ So much for being the best partner possible. Minho seems to be more unwilling than Jinyoung made him out to be, and despite how pretty he looks and how soft his voice is, he is clearly hard headed enough to avoid Hyunjin forever if he really wants to. The only cracks in his facade were when Hyunjin mentioned Chan—but he isn’t sure if he imagined that or not—and when he mentioned his friend.  _

_ That was the first time where Hyunjin felt that his face matched his voice, with how he had practically melted at the mention of this person. _

_ Hyunjin snorts, tossing his towel on the drying rod and grabbing the blow dryer from the bucket right by the closet. If he has to be up that early tomorrow, he might as well try to get some rest now. He’s still incredibly sore from today’s training, and he has no doubt that Minho’s training will be worse than that. _

_ Which may or may not have something to do with those thighs, but he’s not quite ready to acknowledge that it might be a thing.  _

_ What he doesn’t expect though, is to be woken up at three in the morning to the sound of knocking on his door. In the past month, he hasn’t had anyone come over aside from Jinyoung in the first week to show him around. Maybe Minho just forgot his keys? _

_ Not that he thinks the elder is the type to do something like that, he seems far too uptight for that.  _

_ He isn’t entirely wrong though, because Minho is standing there, eyes red and in an oversized t-shirt that comes to his knees, with a shorter man by his side. _

_ Hyunjin has to admit—he’s a little confused. _

_ “Seo Changbin,” the short one says, tilting his head towards the room. Hyunjin steps aside, letting them through before he closes and locks the door behind them. “Sorry, I told him to talk to you sooner but he insisted on being an idiot.” _

_ Minho stays quiet, staring out the window.  _

_ “Is he okay?” Hyunjin directs his question at Changbin, even if he can’t look away from Minho. Changbin winces, glancing at Minho too. _

_ “He’s—” _

_ “I’m fine,” Minho mutters, running a hand through his hair and heading towards the bathroom, throwing his shirt at Changbin. Hyunjin tries to look away from the bruises that probably aren’t bruises on his collarbone. “Stop babying me.” _ __  
  


_ Changbin scowls. “I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t insist on driving yourself into an early grave. Seven days, Minho. Did you think I wouldn’t notice?” _

_ Minho scowls, leaning out of the bathroom, but Hyunjin thinks he looks cute like that, hair fluffy and wide eyes narrowed slightly. “I can’t do what you want me to do.” _

_ Changbin raises his eyebrows, unimpressed. “You’re perfectly capable of staying in your room every once in a while and treating your partner like a partner. Don’t act like you’re incapable of that—we worked together perfectly fine—” _

_ Minho rolls his eyes. “You’re really going to bring  _ us  _ up?” _

_ Changbin shrugs, undeterred. “You worked fine with Jisung too, and I personally didn’t understand how. Get over yourself and figure it out.” _

_ “That’s not fair,” Minho retorts, gritting his teeth. “You know exactly why—” _

_ “And that’s why I’m telling you it’s not an excuse,” Changbin cuts in gently, sighing frustratedly as he approaches Minho, smoothing a hand through his hair and cupping his face and oh— _

_ Hyunjin thinks he gets it now. _

_ Minho pushes him away, but it looks half hearted. Still, Changbin steps away. “He’s fine, remember? You’ve been keeping an eye on him, and nothing has changed. Minho, stop beating yourself up over something you had no control over, it doesn’t help anyone.” _

_ Minho sighs, leaning back into the bathroom behind him. “Either join me or get out,” his muffled voice calls out. Hyunjin blinks, flushing as he twists his hands, unsure of what to do or say. He has never wished for a door and an opaque shower stall more in his life. Changbin laughs, turning to Hyunjin. _

_ “Sorry, really, it’s no excuse, but he’s been through a lot,” Changbin admits. “He really struggles with today in particular; that’s why he was in such a… snappy mood. He’s not a bad guy; he’s just not the best at articulating, and I swear, I’m not trying to justify it, but just… give him time. He’ll come around.” _

_ Hyunjin blinks, glancing briefly at the bathroom and back at Changbin. “Um. I just met him today, but okay?” _

_ Changbin curses under his breath. “He didn’t talk to you last week?” _

_ Hyunjin shakes his head slowly. “Was he supposed to?” _

_ Changbin paces the length of their small room. Hyunjin sinks onto Minho’s bed, hoping that the elder won’t mind too much. It’s too early—late?—for this, and he’s still half asleep. “He said he was going to,” he finally says when Hyunjin thinks he wasn’t going to answer. “I’ll talk to him; that’s definitely not okay.” _

_ Minho comes out, dressed in a pair of boxers, and plops onto the bed, legs thrown carelessly over Hyunjin, whose eyes widen. He watches the elder blink up at Changbin, eyes soft and sparkly again, but Changbin glances over at Hyunjin and then the clock on the dresser next to the bed and sighs. “You can’t keep doing this, Minho,” he murmurs, fondly combing the elder’s hair from his eyes. Hyunjin watches as Minho leans into the touch sleepily, kind of like a cat. “We’re talking in the morning about why you didn’t come back here sooner.” _

_ Minho scrunches his nose up, turning on his side, accidentally knocking Hyunjin over in the process. He either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, because he doesn’t ask the younger to move or go back to his own bed. “I did,” he mumbles, lying down and tugging the sheets up over them. _

_ This is a bit awkward, Hyunjin realizes. It’s a twin bed, so there’s hardly enough space for one of them, let alone both, and with Minho scooting back and getting comfortable— _

_ “Stop overthinking it and sleep,” Minho mutters, leaning back to pat Hyunjin’s head. He misses wildly and ends somewhat patting his cheek, accidentally sticking a finger in his mouth. Hyunjin looks up helplessly at Changbin. _

_ “Is he drunk?” Changbin just laughs, ignoring Hyunjin’s very real distress. “Please control your boyfriend?” _

_ Changbin laughs harder. Minho turns around, very much still awake as he leans closer, tugging Hyunjin down so that he’s lying down before turning back, blinking up at Changbin. “He was sleeping when I came. Didn’t want to wake him up.” _

_ Huh. _

_ Changbin smiles softly at that, leaning down to kiss Minho’s forehead before he tucks his hands into his pockets. “I’ll lock the door, Hyunjin, no worries; Minho gave me a key.” Minho is already fast asleep, dark hair messy and more wavy from the humidity of the shower. _

_ “Good night?” Hyunjin calls back uncertainly, before backing himself into the wall and trying to get comfortable in the small bed. _

_ Guess he misjudged Minho? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 𝐒.𝐓.𝐑.𝐀.𝐘 𝐀𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬:  
>  Name : Hwang Hyunjin  
>  Age : 23  
>  Height : 5'10"  
>  Blood Type : B+  
>  Code Name : TBD  
>  Affiliations : Lee Minho  
> 
> 
> * 🗡 . ☣ . ☠ *
> 
> ahhh i'm so excited for this, truly ! we're just getting started, but it's going to be a wild ride... i'm curious about what y'all think of this so far, comments and kudos truly keep me going ;( all thoughts and theories are much appreciated !! i hope your week is kind to you, stay safe, and take care !


	3. 2ngue in the bag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 :  
> tongue in the bag by xylo
> 
> but you can't fool me any more  
> ( same time tomorrow )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this does get a bit violent, and i wouldn't consider it too intense, but proceed with caution. 
> 
> warning for anxiety : minho does experience a panic attack starting at "minho thinks he screams...the police are cordoning off the scene." 
> 
> i hope you guys like this one !

“You didn’t tell him?”

Minho scoffs, kicking his legs forward as best as he can in the chair, the chains painfully tight around his wrists and ankles. “I don’t owe either of you anything.”  
  


The man raises an eyebrow, inspecting the syringe in his hand. “You took his place though.” He taps the syringe twice, the rust colored liquid glowing faintly in the shadowed room. “If I didn’t know better, I would think that you had a soft spot for him.”

A soft spot, huh? Minho can’t deny it entirely—he certainly cares about his partner. Hyunjin is nowhere near as terrible as MInho was expecting, even if he is a bit innocent—after all, experiences shape the person. It's no fault of his own that Hyunjin’s experiences shaped him for the better.

“I don’t,” Minho mutters, a minute too late. “A partner is a partner; there is a certain level of loyalty between us. Not that you would know anything about loyalty, I suppose.”

He gets a hand pressed against his wounded ribs for that and struggles to wheeze out a laugh. He can’t let the man think he’s getting to Minho. Suddenly, the man lets go, turning back to his syringe.

“Oh, you would be surprised about what I know of loyalty.” His voice is chillingly calm and quiet. Minho looks away—he’s tired of seeing the same thing.

He tries to scope out the place as best as he can, but after being shot, having his ribs crushed, and then being knocked unconscious—either from the pain or from the operative—he can’t quite get his bearings again. He assumes that they’re still in the warehouse, based on the similar physical structure. It looks industrial enough to be the same warehouse he had easily broken into, but thinking about industrial designs only reminds him of his room back at the agency.

His room that he shares with Hyunjin. 

Not that there’s anything wrong with that; he has talked to Changbin about this and he knows that things are different in regards to where the stand—not a bad different, just a new normal. He still feels like it’s harder to admit things to himself because it always gets so blurry when it comes to feelings. Everything is simpler in his head.

“I have to say,” the man muses, now mixing some other kind of concoction on the side table, a rickety wooden thing that looks as if it is approximately one ill timed breath away from crumbling. “I never thought you were capable of putting aside your pride for the greater good. I mean, all things said, you have never been the kind of person to put other people first, right? Chan always worried about that when it came to you—you’ve always struggled to separate the two, isn’t that what he said?”

Okay, that _hurts._ Who does Chan think he is, telling someone all of this? Let alone someone that Chan shouldn’t even trust in the first place. The thought of him trusting a traitor over his own agent stings, but the thought of Chan trusting a stranger and a liar over someone who had once been willing to do anything for him? That? That burns. 

He rolls his eyes, attempting to twist his wrists through the chained handcuffs once more to no avail. Instead, they just press harder against the cut on the side of his wrist—the one he got from the barbed fence—and stings when he so much as moves his fingers. 

It’ll be fine. He got Hyunjin out and the younger agent will get help and figure things out before it’s too late for the rest of the agency. His state isn’t particularly important in comparison to the grand scheme of things; he can only hope that Hyunjin keeps this in mind. He didn’t save the younger for them to both end up locked in here.

“Chan always said you used to be very talkative,” the man murmurs, scissors in hand as he sidesteps the pathetic excuse of a workbench. He slices through Minho’s shirt, ripping the sleeve apart, and with no regard for hygiene or apparently anything other than torture, tosses the remains of the sleeve on the ground. Minho watches it fall, taking note of the puddles all around them. He hadn’t noticed that before, but anything could be a clue of where he is. 

He picks up the syringe, methodically uncapping it—a stark contrast from how he just lets it fall to the floor. The dim red glow taunts Minho, pulses in time with his racing heart. He doesn’t bother with niceties or prepping Minho’s skin or veins for the needle, stabbing it in with a sharp smirk.

Minho screams, the red liquid burning as it enters his bloodstream. He has a splitting migraine, like his brain is trying to escape the pain, and he swears he sees black a few times.

“Let’s _talk_.”

* 🗡 . ☣ . ☠ *

_Professional dancing was supposed to be the endgame, but after he had gotten hooked onto the whole boxing thing, it had been hard to stop. Not to mention, he was only minoring in dance and didn’t have the same opportunities as those majoring in the art. Boxing became the stress reliever he had been unconsciously looking for, the one that had him putting up with his fear of heights to practice past sunset and late into the night, watching the time pass by through the floor to ceiling glass with a glass of water and a sandbag._

_He meets Chan in the beginning of the October at the end of which he’ll be turning twenty on his way out of the gym._

_The elder is sitting in the gym lobby, a giant water bottle by his feet. Oddly enough, he isn’t dressed in active wear and it appears that the water bottle isn’t even his when he stands up without a care for how it falls over._

_“Lee Minho—”_

_And then the glass doors behind him shatter._

_Chan tackles him at the same time, rolling them behind the receptionist’s counter. Thugs in masks waltz in, ski masks hiding their identity. Minho untangles himself from Chan, scooting back slightly in the limited space. He takes a moment to scan the other man, appraising his honey colored crispy excuse for hair and the faint impression of dimples._

_He’s always been a little weak for dimples._

_“How do you know my name?” Minho demands, keeping his voice low so that the intruders don’t hear him. Chan doesn’t answer as he looks back, blinking as his eyes widen._

_Minho feels the cold barrel of a gun press against his spine and growls, leaning back to grasp the barrel with one hand and twists around to stand, flicking his wrist at the right angle to get the gun to fall from his assailant’s hands. He kicks it aside, barely dodging the first punch out of sheer luck. The second one misses—he’s faster._

_He knocks the intruder out easily enough, turning back around to Chan, only to find that he isn’t there anymore._

_Is this an inside job?_

_He turns back around, flailing when he finds himself face to face with the same man who had saved him. “Sorry,” the man says. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”_

_“Do you know them?” He demands, arms crossed. The man’s eyes widen as he shakes his head._

_“What? No!” He fumbles with something in his pocket that has Minho stepping back warily until the gun from the other intruder is by his feet. “I’m a future S.T.R.A.Y agent—I’m currently an intern and they were suspicious that the gym was an inside drug smuggling ring. Actually, I should be asking you that!”_

_Minho rolls his eyes, leaning back against the sculpture. “I just use the boxing ring upstairs and the gym. I didn’t even know about any of this—” He shifts, the metal curve of the statue digging into his hip bone, but he misjudges the stability of the structure. It careens backwards; his eyes widening when he loses his balance. He almost falls back and hits his head against some very sharp metal, but Chan’s arms around his waist pull him back just in time. He tugs Minho close, handles settling too easily around his torso as he pulls them nose to nose._

_And then flushes to his ears, like it isn’t his fault that they are so close right now._

_(Minho’s ears are red too, but his hair is long enough that no one else can see. There’s no need for anyone to know about that—he doesn’t even know the guy.)_

_“Thanks,” he blurts out, right as Chan asks, “Are you okay?”_

_Chan licks his lips. “Are you okay?” He repeats, waiting for Minho to answer._

_It takes him a little longer than it probably should, but Minho forces himself to meet Chan’s eyes instead of letting his gaze linger somewhere a little… lower, on his face. “Yeah, thanks.” He knows he should step away, but he can’t bring himself to._

_Unfortunately—or fortunately, depending on how you look at it—Chan steps away first, offering Minho a smile that has him a little weak in the knees. The man has dimples, great. Not like that’s one of Minho’s weaknesses or anything, nope, not at all. “You’re in college, right?”_

_Minho nods slowly. “Yeah, why?”_

_“I’ll see you around,” Chan answers, grinning brightly. “Stay safe, Minho.”_

_He watches Chan leave, forgetting that the man had known his name far before he had even introduced himself—and that he hadn’t had to introduce himself to Chan._

_Minho doesn’t see Chan again until almost a month later, on his twentieth birthday. He ends up spending it finishing a lab a little later than usual, so he gets out of the gym later too and on his way to the cafe after his workout, he—literally—runs into Chan. “Sorry,” he mutters, bending down to pick up the fallen bungeo-ppang. He holds it up to offer it back to whoever he ran into, unsure of whether he should throw it away himself, but before he can even think it all through, they end up bumping heads, because the other man bends down too._

_“Minho?”_

_Well. That’s embarrassing. “Chan, right?”_

_The other man nods, eyes crinkling and dimples on full display. “You remembered!”_

_Well, geez, way to make Minho feel bad, it’s not like those dimples have been plaguing him in his dreams for the past month or anything. Actually, those dimples—the cause of_ those _dreams—have been the cause of some very irritating cold showers at odd hours. That and his arms, but again, Minho would like to avoid thinking like that. It isn’t like he could ever do anything about it—physical attraction is… well, complicated to say the least._

_It’s not that he isn’t—Chan is a perfect example of it—it’s more that he_ can’t _act on it. How could he, when he has only met the man once?_

_“You okay?” Familiar words. Minho takes Chan’s hand and let’s the elder pull him up, ignoring the way his heart jumps at the physical contact. He has never craved physical contact in any way in particular like this before—it feels weird._

_“Yeah,” he nods, brushing his now empty hand on his pants to dust it off. “Sorry, I was just thinking. I never told you my name?”_

_Whoops._

_See, that was an accident. He had had no intentions of bringing that up. He was simply going to thank the man and head into the cafe, pick up his usual order—lavender milk tea with konjac jelly because he loved the smell of the former and had tried it for the first time because of that and because the latter was healthy enough that he didn’t feel bad for eating it right after working out—and then head home to enjoy his food while watching cat videos . It’s how he’s celebrated his birthday every year since starting high school and to disrupt that routine like this feels weird._

_Chan nods, unsurprised that he even asked. “Yeah, I know. I looked up your file.”_

_Minho frowns, still holding the bungeo-ppang wrapper in his hand. He leans to the side, tossing it in the trash can next to the tree, dusting his hands off. “My file?” His phone vibrates, the alarm he had set to be finished with at the cafe going off. He’s late. “Sorry, could we do this inside? I meant to get some food and I just got back from the gym…”_

_Chan blinks twice before nodding vigorously. “Right, right, sorry!” He steps aside to let Minho enter the cafe first, holding the door open for him and then standing in line behind him as well. Minho offers a bemused smile to the barista, ordering without even looking at the menu._

_Before he can pay, Chan slips his credit card to the barista. “It’s on me. Happy birthday, Minho.”_

_Minho whirls around, eyes wide as he opens his mouth to ask exactly how Chan figured that out, but he just smiles back, turning Minho back around with hands on his shoulders and leading him to a table in the corner._

_“How did you know that?” Minho blurts out, undeterred by those stupid dimples. “I never told you my name either, how did you figure that out?”_

_Chan pulls out his wallet again, holding out a familiar badge. “S.T.R.A.Y, remember? We share the same birthday month. Though, you’re a Scorpio and I’m a Libra.”_

_Minho stares at him. “Congratulations?” The calls out his number, setting the drink and a straw on the counter. He eyes Chan suspiciously before getting up to pick it up, thanking the high school student with a tip before sitting back down at their table. “I don’t see what that has to do with you knowing my name or when my birthday is though.”_

_“S.T.R.A.Y is interested in recruiting you,” Chan says, closing his badge and pocketing it again. “They initially sent me over to make sure you weren’t a part of the gym thing, but then you knocked those guys out so well that I figured it wouldn’t hurt to mention that you would be a good addition to the team I was putting together.”_

_Minho chews on the piece of jelly, gesturing at the elder with the drink in his hand. A familiar face flashes through his mind, a smile bright as sunshine. “I’m in.”_

_Chan raises his eyebrows, eyeing the purple drink in his hands. “Just like that?”_

_Minho nods. “Just like that.”_

_Chan shrugs, shaking his head once. “You’ll have to drop art therapy and dance then, S.T.R.A.Y wouldn’t see you as valuable enough with that.”_

_Minho almost falters, biting the inside of his cheek. Art therapy wasn’t something he chose lightly as a major—it’s something he carefully considered before deciding on. And dance… Dance is all he has left, admittedly, even if he spends more time in the gym these days. It’s been hard, forcing himself to continue, not when he doesn’t know if_ he _is still dancing, is happy. Still, if this gives him access to the resources that he needs, then he can do it. “Done.”_

_“Why do I get the feeling you’re not actually thinking this through?”_

_Minho scoffs, taking a sip from his tea before answering. “That’s not true—I definitely thought this out. You don’t need to understand my reasons; all you need to know is that I’m in.”_

_Chan nods slowly. “Alright. I’ll mention it to my superiors. If they agree, I’ll be able to bring you to headquarters to start training.” He doesn’t say what happens if they don’t. Minho can infer what if left for himself. S.T.R.A.Y isn’t unknown, but they would probably blackmail him into staying quiet or something. And unfortunately, he knows exactly what they would use for that. “You know, I’m surprised you’re going with all of this so easily. Who hurt you, man?”_

_Minho shrugs, lips playing with the mint colored straw as he chews on the jelly. “Who said anyone hurt me? Maybe I’m just bored and what you suggested sounds more interesting.”_

_Chan snorts not unkindly. “It’s not like I can tell my superiors that though. I need something of substance to present to them. Compelling evidence that you would be a worthy investment.”_

_Minho holds himself back from scoffing—he doesn’t want Chan to get the wrong idea. “Let’s just say I have a particular interest in S.T.R.A.Y’s dedication to protecting civilians. I’m a civilian, right? I would like to know that people like me are being protected.”_

_“You don’t have any close contacts on file though?”_

_Minho rolls his eyes. “Just because I don’t have friends doesn’t mean it should be a point of interest,” he points out. “I am a busy college student. I work two jobs. I definitely don’t have time to go screw someone at a party or anything.”_

_The tips of Chan’s ears turn red at that but Minho ignores it. “Besides, I’m strong, right? Sell that to your agency. I’m good at what I do.”_

_Chan grins at that—curse those dimples—and Minho knows that he is already in far too deep._

* 🗡 . ☣ . ☠ *

“Let’s start simple,” the man says. “What’s your name, _Lee Know_?”

Minho groans, writhing from the pain. “You really have to ask something as simple as that? You know what it is, don’t pretend we don’t know each other.”

The man slams his hand against the table. “It’s supposed to be working,” he mutters fiercely to himself. Minho assumes he is referring to that nightmare red serum, but he can’t feel anything other than pain. 

“You know, to be honest with you, I really didn’t think you had it in you,” Minho admits, gritting his teeth at the suddenly overwhelming wave of pain. “But, torture, huh? That’s your specialty? The lengths you go to impress them… You think Chan will think highly of you now?”

The man looks away and Minho chokes out a laugh. “Oh, he doesn’t know, does he?”

“What. Is. Your. Name?” 

Minho raises an eyebrow. “Lee Minho. Like the fifty other people named that; we live in South Korea, did you forget? Working with all of those chemicals make your brain delirious or something?”

The man glares at him, but he is less intimidating now that Minho thinks he knows what the serum was supposed to do. Hyunjin had mentioned the serum in his report, and that his former partner, the forensics scientist, had had no idea what it did and hadn’t been able to recognize it. He feels nothing but pain, wonders if it is intended to ruin his nerves or something.

“Who is your partner?”

Minho rasps out another laugh, wincing when his throat burns. His head is pounding and he feels like he hasn’t slept in a week, when he knows that it’s been at most twenty four hours. “You’ve really lost it, asking these questions like you don’t know the answer to them.” His wrists are on fire, the metal irritating the sensitive skin there further. 

“Humor me,” the man grits out. “Since you clearly seem to be capable of laughing at my misfortune while you’re stuck here.”

Stuck, huh? Does the man not know Minho is perfectly capable of fighting him even with the handcuffs. He could easily take the man without breaking a sweat. That’s not why he’s here. Not at all. He is here to collect intel, but the serum seems to have put a wrench in his plans. He can barely think straight without feeling like a sledgehammer is pounding in his skull.  
  


“Hwang Hyunjin.”

The man curses, slamming his fist against the table once more. The glass needles rattle, but not a single one falls. Minho smirks—things must not be going well or according to plan, huh? “Wow, that bad? And here I was thinking you already knew about him.”

The man lifts another needle up menacingly. “Shut up!”

* 🗡 . ☣ . ☠ *

_He makes the decision to drop art therapy as a major and drops dance altogether so he can switch to a pre-nursing track the day after meeting Chan at the cafe. His advisor lets him know that he can graduate early if he takes a few more classes to compensate for the difference, so he does._

_He completes his training a week before he graduates a year early with his bachelor’s degree. He sees Chan accept his diploma first and thinks that he’s finally made a point to the agency._

_A year later, he becomes the youngest agency recruit to also double as a successful medic when he completes his residency as a trauma nurse. His perfect record as a S.T.R.A.Y agent is matched only by Chan, who is his greatest comfort despite his constant refusal to partner with Minho officially._

_They still talk quite a bit and Minho thinks he’s finally made progress with whatever these feelings are the night before a mission. It’s only a stakeout, but Chan is meticulous and nervous about how things are going to go. For some reason, he won’t meet Minho’s eye, but the younger doesn’t think too much of it. They all handle the pre-mission anxiety differently. Chan gets in his head and Minho takes it out on the training circuit._

_“It’s going to be fine, Chan,” Minho murmurs, sitting down next to the elder on the fire escape, tensing up when he realizes how high up they are. His next words are stiffer from the acrophobia setting in, but he hopes the elder doesn’t mistake his sincerity. “You’ve been planning this since the first day. You’ve never been wrong before, remember?”_

_Chan sighs, swinging his leg a little harder by accident. The metal drop down stairs under them shake and Minho flinches, almost throwing himself backwards._

_This snaps Chan out of whatever funk he is in, apologizing profusely when he sees Minho’s wide eyes and trembling hands. “Sorry, sorry, Minho, I’m so sorry,” he mutters, getting up slowly to where Minho is frozen with his back against the brick wall, hands clenching the cold metal mesh under them with a grip so tight his knuckles are turning white. “Minho, hey, you’re okay, I’m sorry, you’re okay.”_

_Minho doesn’t feel anything until Chan sits down right in front of him, prying his hands off the metal grate below them. He latches on easily to the elder’s hands, squeezing so tight he probably is cutting off the circulation a little bit, but the warmth from his hands is better than the cold metal. He tries to even out his breathing, closing his eyes to avoid looking out at the edge, but it’s hard to get the sound of the metal swinging out of his head._

_Chan lifts their joined hands up, letting Minho’s hands fall to his wrists while he cups Minho’s face with his now free hands. The younger leans into it, slowly opening his eyes to meet Chan’s own. “See? You’re okay, Minho.”_

_“It’s too high,” he whines back, grip tightening ever so slightly around the elder’s wrists._

_Chan laughs lightly at this, standing up slowly, hands falling to Minho’s waist to pull the younger up with him. “Come on, let’s get you back inside.”_

_Minho doesn’t protest at that. He only came out here to make sure that Chan was okay, not to test the limits of the fire escape. Chan pulls him back inside gently, surprisingly not letting go of Minho’s hands even after he closes the fire escape door, leading Minho down the hallway patiently, conscious of how the younger is still shaking from his previous encounter. He looks overwhelmingly fond, and Minho can’t keep watching. He looks away, breaking their eye contact as he looks at the floor, not looking up even when Chan squeezes their hands reassuringly._

_Chan’s room is closer, and for all Minho complains about the lackluster hotel knockoff carpet and the impractical furniture that clutters the room, he doesn’t mind it all that much if it’s Chan’s. The elder doesn’t have a roommate either, and a double bed instead of just a twin, though the maroon velvet sheets are a bit overkill._

_Minho sinks into the mattress when he sits down, Chan making himself comfortable next to him. “I’m really sorry, Minho. I didn’t mean to make you worry like that.”_

_Minho waves it aside, scooting backwards to lean against the pillows like Chan is. “It’s fine; I chose to sit there, remember?” He offers Chan a tiny smile, but the elder’s concern bleeds through his own tight smile he returns._

_“Still,” Chan insists, wrapping an arm around Minho’s shoulders and tugging him closer. “I know you’re scared of heights and I didn’t want to be insensitive. You’re sure that you’re okay?”_

_Is he? His hands are still shaking, and he’s a bit cold. He shivers slightly, the elder pulling him closer unconsciously at that. “Yeah, Chan. I’m fine, you don’t have to worry so much.”_

_Chan shakes his head, curls flopping at the motion and making Minho giggle as the elder hugs him, sliding down on the pillows. “Of course I’m going to worry, Minho,” Chan mumbles, tugging the sheets over them. “I care about you.”_

_This is Minho’s downfall right here, believing that the way Chan means it is the way he will come to mean it in the months that follow._

_“Me too,” Minho murmurs, turning onto his side as well and burying his face in Chan’s chest, throwing a leg over the elder’s hip._

_There’s something to be said about the platonic ambiguity that is the nature of their relationship, but then again, Chan has never expressed any less than platonic feelings toward the other and Minho—_

_Well, it’s complicated when it comes to Minho._

_But he doesn’t want to think about that, so he settles for pulling Chan closer, relishing the elder’s sleepy laughs as he settles the arm that isn’t under his head around Minho’s waist, fingers resting against the bare skin of the small of his back where his shirt has ridden up from all of the movement. He sighs contentedly, sneaking a hand up to tug one of Chan’s curls playfully, giggling into the elder’s chest when he jerks at the movement, whining at Minho the entire time in a manner that’s entirely too cute from how sleep they both are._

_“Minhooo,” he complains, batting his hand away. “Stop, it’ll get tangled and then it’ll be a pain in the morning and then Sana will laugh at me again.”_

_Minho snorts. “Sana will laugh at you anyway—you look adorable in the mornings.”_

_“It’s already morning,” Chan points out, pulling Minho even closer as he shifts onto his back, draping the younger over himself. “Am I adorable now?”_

_Minho makes a face at the exaggerated aegyo, shoving Chan’s laughing face to the side even as he lays on top of him. “Ew, no, that’s disgusting, stop that.”_

_Chan keeps laughing, hands coming up to rest around Minho’s waist, sliding them under his shirt to tickle his sides. “Only if you say it,” he says, laughing harder at whatever expression of disgust Minho is making. “C’mon Minho, say it,” he wheedles, brushing their noses together gently, like bunnies or something softer. Minho can’t stop laughing either, but manages to string together the sentence Chan wants so badly to hear._

_“Okay, okay, fine, you’re cute, stop it,” Minho giggles out, laughter tapering away when Chan settles his hands back under his shirt, warm against the small of his back._

_Chan blinks up at him, sleepy eyes fond in those too early to be morning and too late to be night hours. Minho blinks back, surprised when Chan’s eyes darken slightly, the elder leaning closer slightly. Minho watches him with wide eyes, waiting._

_Chan presses his lips against the younger’s gently, barely there before he turns them back on their sides again, giving Minho no time to process what happened at all. Still, he leans forward into the kiss, hands playing with Chan’s curls. He doesn’t know what they’re doing, but Chan is playing along with it, so he doesn’t think it’s too bad. As long as it doesn’t go past kissing, it will be fine._

_It’s not like they like each other anyway. Well, Minho can only speak for himself, but as ambiguous as feelings often get, he can say with absolute confidence that what he feels for Chan isn’t romantic in nature. He likes the kissing—they’ve never done it before though—but he doesn’t see it progressing any further from here._

_Chan silences Minho’s sleepy whines from when he pulls away with another close mouthed kiss, pulling Minho closer and tucking his chin over the younger’s head._

_He’s fast asleep in less than two minutes._

_Minho thinks he won’t be able to fall asleep after all that, thinks that it’s going to be a long night full of overthinking, but instead, he falls asleep in less than ten minutes, the warmth from the velvet sheets he despises and Chan’s arms lulling him into the dreamless sleep he’s been craving for years._

_He falls asleep in Chan’s arms and wakes up to a note on the nightstand—see: excessive piece of furniture—that Minho seemed to be in too deep sleep for him to want to wake the younger up to say goodbye before going on his mission._

_Following the mission, they are both too busy to spend any time together and their carefully built fast friendship starts to crumble a little. Chan spends more time strategizing and less time in places that he would be with Minho. The younger retaliates by turning the training circuit into his throne. He knows that Chan knows he’s there, but the elder never bothers to visit._

_He minds initially. After all, Chan was the one who introduced him to the team—and they were good friends too, even if Minho never openly never had to say it, because they always had each other’s backs._

_And then he meets Seo Changbin._

_“You’re the ace?”_

_Minho raises an eyebrow, running a hand through his hair, shoving his bangs from his eyes as his free hand tosses the bo staff back onto the rack. That’s certainly an umbrella term for it, but it’s not like he isn’t attracted to people that way—he is—it just takes time for him to warm up to others and get used to being around them so intimately and ah—that’s not what the agent was talking about, was it?_

_He stares back at Minho, waiting, before he realizes. “Oh, right. Seo Changbin, your new partner.” He holds his hand out._

_New?_

_“I didn’t even have a partner before,” Minho admits, shaking his hand. “Unless our superiors mentioned something to you?”_

_Changbin nods. “Yeah, they said my new partner would be a Lee Minho, former partner of the agency’s golden child, Bang Chan.”_

_Huh._

_“Lee Minho,” Minho offers, knowing it’s redundant. “That’s me. Didn’t know Chan was my partner or that he had filed for a successful request to change partners, but I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.”_

_“You’re good at the staff thing,” Changbin offers. “It’s nice to know you’ll have my back.”_

_Minho scoffs, about to comment that he never said anything like that before he realizes that he is still holding Changbin’s hand and finally lets go. The younger smirks at him, raising his eyebrows and oh no—_

_Here we go again._

_Changbin is easy in a way that being Chan’s partner—that he didn’t even know he was until Changbin told him that day when they first met—never was. With Chan, Minho always felt like he was trying to live up to someone else’s potential, always trying to prove himself to someone else._

_Changbin doesn’t question his judgement, and often shares contrasting opinions he would have never thought of on his own._

_He really, really enjoys Changbin’s company. It’s easy for them to spend time training together—though Changbin prefers to focus on his upper body strength while Minho’s main focus is lower body—they are both equally disciplined about it and unafraid to mess up in front of the other._

_“Why’d you join S.T.R.A.Y?”_

_It takes him two months of working with Minho to ask the question, and somehow, the elder is far more comfortable with telling him the truth than he ever was with Chan, that overwhelming need to impress always getting the best of him._

_Minho turns onto his side, grinning a little when Changbin groans at the movement of his head against the younger’s torso. He holds his hand out on the younger’s chest, palm facing upward, the other cushioned under his head. “I’m trying to keep someone safe,” he says. “Someone I wasn’t able to be there for before; I don’t want them to get hurt.”_

_Changbin interlaces their hands, fingers tapping out an absentminded rhythm against his skin. “You’re a guardian angel then, huh?”_

_Minho flushes, rolling over altogether to bury his face in the younger’s torso, ignoring Changbin’s delight at flustering him._ Angel. _He’s never thought of it like that, and he honestly can’t say he agrees. He doesn’t know if keeping an eye on someone is guarding them in any way, especially since he can’t actually do anything to help them. It’s more selfish really, what he’s doing, keeping an eye on someone to make sure that they’re safe to maintain his own peace of mind._

_Changbin lifts his free hand to brush through Minho’s hair, snagging on the tangles before gently detangling the dark brown waves. It’s gotten a bit longer than it was before and the younger adores being able to play with it. “Hey. Angel. Do you think you would be okay with me meeting whoever you’re guarding?”_

_Minho doesn’t speak for a whole minute, face b_ _urning at the pet name. Why is this so_ easy _? Why does it just make sense to talk to Changbin about things he avoids thinking about altogether? “Don’t call me that,” he whines, albeit pathetically, shifting so that he’s sitting up with his back against the wall, perpendicular to Changbin, who is sprawled out with his feet nearly on Minho’s pillow and his head where Minho’s feet typically are when they sleep. Changbin sits up immediately, almost hitting his head on the metal bed frame, making himself comfortable in the corner of the bed and tugging Minho closer with an arm around his waist._

_“What,_ angel _?"_

_Minho falls into him with another whine, resting his shoulder against the younger’s shoulder. “You can’t meet him,” he finally says._

_Changbin nods. “Okay.”_

_Minho shifts, looking up at him through his eyelashes. Changbin gulps, but he doesn’t know why. “You’re not going to ask?”_

_The younger meets his eyes. “Should I? I mean, I trust you, Min. If you’re not ready yet, then I totally get it.”_

_Minho looks away, squeezing Changbin’s hand tightly when his vision swims in front of him. “You guys would get along well, I think,” he murmurs. “Although, it’s been years, I could be wrong.”_

_Changbin shrugs, turning slightly and pulling Minho against his chest. They’re curled in the corner, legs stretched out across the rest of the bed, taking advantage of the bunk bed’s frame to rest against it. The moon winks at him through the window. “Do you want to talk about it?”_

_Minho shrugs. “There’s not much to talk about; it’s not a big deal.”_

_“You joined a representative government co agency because of this, I think it’s a pretty big deal,” Changbin points out, pausing his ministrations with Minho’s hair to fix the bunched up throw blanket behind his back. “Plus, it’s clearly important to you, so it’s an even bigger deal.”_

_He is just… so_ different _from Chan._

_“He’s my little brother,” Minho finally admits. “Well, half brother I guess… Things got complicated really early on, but I just want to make sure he’s okay.”_

_“Complicated?” Changbin repeats, though it sounds more like an invitation to expand on that rather than a question._

_Minho nods, hair splaying over the younger’s shoulder. “Yeah. The last time I saw him, I was, what, four?”_

_“Geez, Minho…”_

_Minho turns and slots himself into Changbin’s side, nuzzingly the younger’s shoulder with his cheek. “It’s—my mom screwed up, early on in their relationship and she cheated on her husband. And my dad—the guy she cheated with—isn’t someone that I know, anyway. But my mom and her husband got divorced after he found out—except they’d already had another kid; together this time; between that.”_

_Changbin flicks the elder’s earring lightly, a polar bear with little diamonds beaded throughout. “Your little brother.”_

_Minho nods. “My little brother.” He laughs sadly, remembering the pure sunshine in his little brother’s smile, how happy he had always been from what little Minho remembered. “His parents got divorced though, and since neither wanted me, I ended up with Child Protection Services.” Changbin squeezes his hip comfortingly, pressing his lips against Minho’s hair gently. “Yongbokkie got to stay with his dad, and he remarried this other lady. They’re okay though, they’re doing really well.”_

_“Minho…”_

_The elder shakes his head at the pity in Changbin’s voice. “It’s not as sad as it sounds,” he cuts him off, his voice small. “Besides, none of that can be changed anyway. I just need to make sure he’s okay.”_

_After dropping something so heavy on the younger, who’s only supposed to be his professional partner at the very least and his best friend at the very most, what Changbin says is the last thing he expects to hear. “Can I help?”_

_Help? A foreign idea, really. Minho blinks twice. “Huh?”_

_“You’ve been taking care of him for so long,” Changbin murmurs, fingers carding through his hair again. “Don’t you think a new perspective and a fresh pair of eyes might be able to help a bit, angel?” He’s entirely oblivious to how flustered the nickname leaves the elder, but also how touched he is by Changbin’s words._

_“There isn’t anything I can do other than make sure that the mail goes to the same address,” Minho admits quietly. “Any more than that doesn’t—it doesn’t seem right. It feels like I’m stalking him.”_

_Changbin hums in agreement quietly. “Public spaces isn’t stalking, Min. You’re allowed to go see him if you want to.”_

_Minho clings to those words too tightly. He uses security cameras to follow his brother for the first—and he hopes, last—time on the day of the younger’s university graduation. It’s crowded enough that he and Changbin don’t look out of place, standing under a tree as the diploma ceremony commences._

_“He looks happy,” Changbin murmurs, leaning against Minho, the elder’s arm draped around his shoulders. “You’ve taken care of him well, angel.”_

_It has been years since Minho has felt like crying the way he does in that moment, pride filling him as he watches his little brother proudly hug his friends, an untainted laughter in that familiar sunshine smile. All Minho knows is that his brother had struggled with learning the language after moving here for university—from Australia at that, and for some reason, that reminds him of Chan and his time spent abroad there even though he wishes it wouldn’t—and he thinks that it’s amazing how far he’s come, even if it’s taken him an extra year to graduate. He still made it. Changbin’s words fill his eyes with tears but blinks them away quickly enough. “I’m proud of him,” he whispers._

_Changbin looks up at him. “He would be proud of you too, you know?”_

_Minho shakes his head, hair almost snagging against the rough tree bark. “He shouldn’t be.”_

_“Give yourself some credit, Min,” Changbin scoffs, not unkindly. He steps in front of Minho, cupping his jaw and gently lowering his chin to meet the younger’s eyes. “Hey. Angel. Listen, okay? What you went through was hard, and I know that makes you think that you don’t deserve good things. I know you don’t believe me, but I just want you to try, okay? Promise me that you’ll try to listen when people say good things about you. You are not a bad person for the cards you were dealt.”_

_It_ hurts, _he thinks, to trust someone like this. So wholeheartedly, a balanced relationship. He wonders if it’s something more than trust at play here, something a little cooler, something refreshing._

_Changbin is still waiting for an answer, patiently with that same smile he always has when he looks at Minho, a little bit fond and a little bit of something else._

_He thinks he gets it now. “I’ll try,” he admits._ For you, I can do that. _He glances back at his little brother, who is now hugging his dad and stepmother before getting into a silver sedan—the middle seat in the back row—and watches the car pull away from the parking lot before looking back at Changbin. He offers the younger a small smile._

_It all happens too fast from there._

_The other car is speeding, easily twenty kilometers over the speed limit as it hits the turn. It scrapes against the guitar, slowing down slightly and it’s enough to lessen the impact, but it still crashes into a parked car before both go careening into another familiar silver sedan._

_Minho thinks he screams but he isn’t sure. Everything is shaking, and all he can do is cling onto Changbin’s hand to keep from rushing forward. He waits to see all three of them get out of the car, but he can’t hear anything from the ringing in his ears. Changbin is on the phone with the emergency responders, an ambulance siren wailing in the distance, free hand trying to comfort Minho in whatever way he can._

_And then he sees the blood._

_Minho isn’t entirely sure what comes over him, but the next thing he knows, he’s doubling over and dry heaving, panic building up until all he can feel is something constricting._

_He squeezes his eyes shut, pressing his forehead to his knees in an attempt to keep the swelling tide at bay, but nothing helps. Changbin is right by his side in an instant, whispering breathing patterns to him and keeping his voice at that low sort of comforting timber. He pulls Minho into his chest, pressing his head against his heartbeat. Minho leans into it, wishing for anything to drown out the high pitched buzzing that plagues him._

_He doesn’t know how long it takes before he can hear Changbin counting his breaths for him, but his heartbeat helps too. He listens to the younger, trying to inhale and exhale as he counts, trying to start his heart again._

_The ambulance is gone and the police are cordoning off the scene._

_“They’re okay,” Changbin says immediately. “Just minor injuries. The driver of the first car was killed on impact though.”_

_Minho thinks he deserves it for endangering so many people so recklessly. Who drives like that near a university? His second instinct is to think that it was intentional, but his brother isn’t him. There’s no reason for anyone to target him the way there is Minho._

_“The ambulance?” Minho asks shakily, his voice raspy to his own ears. He clears his throat. “They’re not here anymore though.”_

_Changbin nods, slowly pulling him to his feet and letting him lean heavily against the younger. “Their car tire was punctured, so the ambulance drove them to the hospital. His stepmom might need stitches for her hand, but your brother was fine. Just a few bruises, but nothing serious. Honestly, I should be asking you that, though. Are you—”_

_“I’m fine,” Minho mutters, waving it away, pressing the heel of his palms against his eyes. They come away wet and he frowns. Changbin opens his mouth to say something but Minho cuts him off. “I’m fine,” he repeats. “Can we go back?”_

_Changbin looks over at the police working in front of where he had parked their car before looking back at Minho. A man taller than both of them, with black hair that’s styled perfectly, and a badge hanging around his neck. An intern, most likely. He nods. “Yeah, do you want me to ask them if we can move the car?”_

_Minho shakes his head. “I’ll come with you,” he mutters, rubbing his eyes, irritated at how they water. Changbin snorts, not unkindly, reaching up to gently brush a thumb under his eyes, cool against Minho’s flushed skin. “Don’t be so hard on yourself,” is all he says. Minho blinks back at him with wide eyes, lips parting when Changbin’s thumb slips to his bottom lip. He offers a trademark gentle smile at Minho—the one that leaves him to wonder what he did in a past life to deserve this—and intertwines their fingers together, leading the way across the street._

_Minho stumbles behind him and for the first time, he thinks that all words that begin with four letters aren’t pain._

* 🗡 . ☣ . ☠ *

The pain is familiar. 

He wonders if there was ever a time where it wasn’t, but the red serum seems to cloud his judgement and fill him with the reminders of pain.

And of that, there are many.

“Do you know a Lee Felix?”

God, no, he can’t be serious right now. Minho needs to find a way to play this off, a way for it to be believable, but for that, he needs to keep his head straight. Yes, this is bad, and the musty smell of this dusty warehouse certainly isn’t helping matters, but he can’t be impulsive now.

It’s times like this where he really appreciates Changbin’s ability to strategize, and Hyunjin’s innate ability to piece together something from next to nothing. Compared to the two of them, none of his strong suits are particularly useful.

But.

He _can_ bluff. That’s what both of them would do, right? How else did Hyunjin manage to hold out for so long without giving them away?

Hyunjin _didn’t_ have what they were looking for, but that didn’t mean that they would believe that. 

Minho, on the other hand, does know. And if he knows, then he can figure out what he shouldn’t say, right?”

“Should I?” He grits out. His hand is numb, like nerves in the ends of his fingertips have shut down. It’s a surreal feeling, like what he imagines those sensory deprivation tanks to feel like. Maybe if he gets out of all this alive, he’ll take Hyunjin to one of them.

(Since when did Changbin and Minho become Hyunjin and Minho anyway?)

The man points the needle at his throat. “Answer the question or I’ll give you a second dose,” he snaps, shoes splashing through the puddles as he gets closer. “Do you really think that would be safe? I’ve heard you’re pretty selfish, are you willing to die for this?”

“I don’t know Lee Felix.” The words are out of his mouth before he can process them, almost as if his brain is catching up to his vocal chords instead of the other way around. The words sting in his throat though, and all he can think of is sunshine.

_Yongbok._

Somehow, his brain manages to save him from making an even bigger mistake, but he thinks he is starting to actually understand how this serum works. 

The truth always prevails, is what he always said, wasn’t it?

“You’re lying,” the man spits. Minho shakes his head, wincing when it worsens his migraine. Bad idea. 

“How could I be?”

The man glares, but Minho doesn’t think he has enough energy to fear what threat this might mean. He lets the pain take control, and doesn’t think about what he says next, praying that his brain to mouth filter is still working.

A drop of water drips from the moldy ceiling. A needle breaks through skin.

* 🗡 . ☣ . ☠ *

_Minho doesn’t sleep that night, too fixated on his little brother’s health condition to get the rest he undoubtedly needs. Changbin stays up with him wordlessly, even offering to drive Minho to the hospital to make sure. Chan disapproves of the whole thing, but Changbin spins a story about how there was a likelihood of it being an intentional hit and run, something fell into their jurisdiction to investigate, so he lets them go._

_He is gentler with Minho than Changbin, but the younger can tell that they’ve worn out their welcome when Chan says that he’ll see them in a week to debrief and that he has company coming over._

_Company is Kim Seungmin, the agency’s mysterious chemist. Mysterious, because he is the only recruit that no one has a reason for his being here. Changbin freely admitted that his strategizing skills were what had made him a good asset, and it was clear that for Chan, it was the same. Minho remembers being accepted for his innate ability to pick up physical skills faster and adapt to situations as such easily: like having good reflexes at all times, but on a more lethal scale._

_He doesn’t like Minho very much, and has no qualms about making it known, though he gets along fine with Changbin, and obviously, loves being around Chan. It doesn’t bother Minho too much; he doesn’t have to see Seungmin that often anyway—their lines of work are different._

_It should have raised some kind of red flag that Chan and Seungmin were meeting so often, especially considering that Chan was in the exact same line of work as Minho, but Minho is a little busy dealing with other feelings, so he ignores it at the time, not knowing that it will come back to bite him._

_Yongbok is fine and is being released from the hospital with his parents when Changbin and Minho pull up to the hospital parking lot. He’s holding a bottle of water and a bag for his stepmom, who broke has stitches on her hand. His dad is filling out paperwork with the receptionist, but he looks fine too._

_Minho lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, turning around to find Changbin already looking at him. “What?” He feels oddly vulnerable whenever the younger smiles like that, like he sees something in Minho that the elder doesn’t see in himself._

_Well, considering what he promised, maybe Changbin does._

_But then again, maybe it doesn’t matter._

_“I told you they were fine,” Changbin chides, putting his seatbelt on and backing out of the parking lot. He stops at the exit, waiting for the cars to slow down before turning onto the main road._

_“Do you want to do something?” Minho blurts out. Changbin looks over at him briefly as the car rolls to a stop at the traffic light._

_“Like what? We promised Chan that we were only looking into it because it was ‘intentional’ or something; there’s no way he won’t notice if we’re out doing something else.”_

_Minho shakes his head. “I know a place,” is all he says, putting the address into the GPS with fingers that tremble with nervous energy, not waiting for Changbin’s answer. The younger shrugs and follows the directions anyway, pulling up to a hole in the wall type bar, with a neon purple sign that flickers every three and a half minutes because of a loose circuit that the owners never fixed._

_BTS._

_Minho’s dance senior and former mentor, Park Jimin, had always mentioned that he, his fiance Min Yoongi, and the leader of their dance crew and one of Jimin’s closest friends, Jung Hoseok, were planning on opening a bar. Minho had heard that it was successful from Jimin’s soulmate and fellow art therapy major, Kim Taehyung, that the bar was a success, if a niche one at that. He had taken Minho there one night, pleading with the younger to help him get with the bartender with the bunny smile. Minho had agreed, but only after he had gotten tired of teasing the elder about his crush on him._

_It had been short lived and all that had come of it was Taehyung deciding that maybe he did have a type after all, but it’s a fond memory that brings a smile to Minho’s lips._

_It’s also a terrible idea for him to be here when almost everyone in the staff knows him, but he thinks that Changbin has always been so accommodating of him that he wants to share more of himself with the other too._

_“You brought us to a club.” Changbin’s voice is flat, if a little confused. Minho laughs, shaking his head._

_“It’s not a club,” he says, closing the car door behind him and running a hand through his hair, acutely aware of Changbin’s gaze following his hand. “It’s a bar that a few of my college… friends opened. They have better dance music than most clubs though.”_

_“Minhooo,” Changbin whines, bringing a genuine grin to Minho’s lips. “You should have said something, I would have dressed better.”_

_Minho laughs. “It’s not like I knew either! Besides, I didn’t dress up either, and anyway, you look fine.”_

_He does. Minho thinks Changbin in black t-shirts might be his favorite look on the younger. To his surprise, Changbin flushes and scratches his neck self consciously. “It’s not like you need to,” he mutters, waving a hand at Minho’s outfit. Skinny jeans, a black silk shirt, the same things he wore to Yongbok’s graduation. It was superficial, but he had felt that dressing up slightly would make it feel more real. Still, it’s not like this is what he would wear to a_ bar. _“Not when you look like that.”_

Oh. 

_“Is that your way of saying I look ugly?” Minho teases. They’ve been toeing at the edge of this thing for months now and he doesn’t think that anyone makes him more comfortable than Changbin does. He leans against the hood of the car from the side, resting his foot against the wheel. Changbin steps in front of him, eyes darkening as he places his hands on either side of Minho’s thighs against the car._

_“Oh, you know you’re the farthest thing from ugly, angel,” the younger murmurs, leaning closer. Minho shivers, still irritated with how hot that stupid nickname sounds in this context. He steps between Minho’s legs, hands rising up to rest against Minho’s waist. He lifts a hand to cup Minho’s jaw. “Is this okay?”_

_Minho nods hurriedly, leaning closer. “More than,” he breathes out._

_Changbin doesn’t kiss him. Not immediately anyway, though it does happen. He takes his time, nosing along his jaw softly before he draws their lips together, far too gently for Minho’s liking. He doesn’t mind though, he thinks there’s a certain kind of comfort in this gentle softness._

_Not that it lasts. He has Changbin pressing him into the car, a hand sliding under his untucked shirt and another playing with his hair as his lips trail down the elder’s neck and Minho doesn’t think he’s ever felt anything as euphoric as this before._

_He’s gasping into Changbin’s mouth in a way that sounds far too erotic and he’s almost embarassed, until the younger pulls away, looking just as disheveled. “You’re so—”_

_Minho runs a hand through his hair, tying the choker neckline ribbon once more and re-buttoning his top button again, blushing at the mark on his collarbone. “So what?”_

_“Hot,” Changbin breathes out, embarrassingly out of breath. “God, and you look like that and you’re just—you’re amazing, you know that, angel?”_

_Minho giggles. “So are you,” he reminds the younger. “I’m starting to think you have a thing for my hair or something—and my collarbones apparently.”_

_Changbin laughs too, and soon enough, they’re both in a fit of giggles in the BTS parking lot, the nervous energy around them dissipating._

_“I don’t do no strings attached,” Minho blurts out, at the same time as Changbin._

_“I’m in love with you.”_

* 🗡 . ☣ . ☠ *

Truth serums aren’t supposed to be real because there isn’t any science that can actually back up how they work in science fiction and spy dramas. There’s a reason that lie detectors are still in use, after all. 

But the truth bleeds from his lips just as easily as his synapses fire and he wonders if there would be a better end to it all. The man hasn’t asked him anything too incriminating yet, but Minho thinks he’s had enough of this pain. Both of his arms are completely numb, and that does not bode well for his future escape.

Not to mention all he’s learned is that these thugs have control of a scientist to produce the right kind of serum.

He can’t believe he hadn’t noticed sooner. 

“Why did you take Hyunjin’s spot?”

The water drips and Minho counts to three before he answers. “Why did you agree to the trade? You know that I know more, but that isn’t why, is it?”

“You don’t know anything,” the man warns. Minho smirks, shaking his head.

“You _wish_ I didn’t know anything,” he corrects, gaze darting to the grate in the room. His arms will be useless, but at least all those years of dance have paid off. He’s flexible enough to kick it out, and it’s big enough for him to fit through. He knows they’re underground, so he’ll likely end up on the ground floor, outside of the warehouse, when he makes it out.

His ribs sting, and the side of his thigh burns, a painful throbbing reminder that he was recently shot in the leg. He thinks he’s been fortunate enough that all of these traitors are poor shots, but there’s one that he refuses to forgive. 

The renewed clarity pushes through with a new vigor and Minho thinks that the truth serum might be finally wearing off, because he starts to regain sensation in the tips of his fingers. 

He glances around the room as inconspicuous as he can once more, taking note of the closed door. Venturing into the warehouse is out of question, not with the migraine hindering his sense of direction and spatial reasoning. The grate is his best bet, especially since he can see the faintest light from there. Judging by the olden haze it casts on the floor, it’s likely evening by now.

Which means he’s been stuck here for at least twenty hours. The serum seems to disrupt some brain function, though keeping track of time isn’t necessarily a priority, at least now he has a way to know what time it is. He remembers a field, but he _had_ hidden in one of their vehicles to get here, so he doesn’t know the way back either.

And in his current state, there’s no way his appearance in a vehicle would be believable. 

Thankfully, he’s left his phone with Changbin and he knows Hyunjin would have gotten in touch with his best friend by now. He can’t count on either of them to know where he is though, so he’ll have to steal a vehicle.

But with the way his captor is slowly descending into a frustrated mess might just play into his favor if he waits things out and finds a way to tolerate the pain.

If he bides his time carefully, he might be out of here sooner than he thought. 

But the man isn’t quite ready for that to happen. He marches over to Minho, pressing a soaked towel against the side of the wound. The towel turns red and the salt burns against the broken skin.

“What the f—” His curse is cut off by another injection, the fourth one so far if Minho has kept count properly.

“Let’s try that again,” the man says, far more calm than he’s been, but Minho can tell he’s slowly losing it. He mutters to himself as he walks around, his clipboard of questions noticeably absent. 

So this is personal, then?

“It has to work this time,” he mutters to himself, not even looking at Minho as he paces the length of the room, behind that old wooden work table. “I perfected the formula, and I’ve never been wrong before. It has to work on everyone, especially—” He meets Minho’s eyes, a hatred that Minho can’t understand burning in his eyes. “Especially you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 𝐒.𝐓.𝐑.𝐀.𝐘 𝐀𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬:  
>  Name : Seo Changbin  
>  Age : 24  
>  Height : 5'6"  
>  Blood Type : O+  
>  Code Name : SpearB  
>  Affiliations : Lee Minho, Han Jisung
> 
> * 🗡 . ☣ . ☠ *
> 
> this was a little intense, no ? i promise things will start to make more sense soon, but i'm sure you know more than you think you do. . . i say implied and then i made it very, shall we say, obvious. this chapter was for the minbinners, how are y'all feeling ? as always, i love reading all of your comments/theories, truly, the best form of validation. thank you all for reading and i hope your week is kind to you. stay safe, take care, and don't forget to drink water <3


	4. 3nemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 :  
> enemy by kard
> 
> 기억이나 불행으로 넌 더  
> ( through memory and misfortune, you are more. )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhh first of all, i'm so sorry this took so long !! i promise the next few updates won't take so long, at least until exam week... please enjoy this chapter too !

He can practically hear the gears turning in Changbin’s head and for a split second, wishes he hadn’t said anything. But he knows that if he hadn’t there would be no chance to save Minho.

Not that he thinks the elder isn’t capable of getting himself out of there. He just doesn’t trust the other man, the one that seemed so interested in Minho. He thinks that man looked vaguely familiar, but he can’t quite place the face.

“What do you mean, Minho took your place?” Changbin finally says, when the silence grows overbearingly suffocating. “Did he not call for backup?”

Hyunjin raises an eyebrow halfheartedly. “You’re backup,” he mumbles miserably. 

“He didn’t call me though,” Changbin retorts. 

Hyunjin has had enough. He checks the cameras to make sure that he has aligned the car properly in the parking spot before shutting the car off, unclicking his seatbelt and twisting to look at Changbin. “How are you not mad at me?”

Changbin shakes his head. “Because Minho wouldn’t have done this if he wanted me to be mad at you.”

“You’re awfully sure of that for someone who just found out whose fault it is that his best friend is potentially kidnapped,” Hyunjin scoffs bitterly. “It’s my fault for sure, and you  _ should  _ be mad.”

Changbin turns too, resting an arm on the dashboard. “What good would that do? You know Minho wouldn’t let anyone stop him.” He pauses, shaking his head once. “I wish I could blame you for this, honestly. But Hyunjin, I care about you too, I’m not going to sit here and say I wish you were stuck there. That’s not fair to you.”

Hyunjin blinks rapidly to clear his vision. He thinks he gets why Minho fell for Changbin, in the easy way he admits his love. Minho is complex, and no doubt, has plenty of skeletons in his closet. Changbin just seems to find a way around all of those, helping the elder honor those in his graveyard. “He said he knew more.”

Changbin frowns. “Like in general?”

Hyunjin shakes his head. “I don’t think so. It feels something more than just in general, because if the Syndicate were serious about getting information from the agency, they would know that I don’t know as much.”

Changbin nods, fingers tapping against the synthetic fabric of the headrest. “It’s something only Minho knows, then.”

Hyunjin blinks twice, scrambling to grab Changbin’s wrist when he remembers. “The man. He looked like he recognized Minho.”

Changbin’s other hand grabs Hyunjin;s wrist, holding it just as tightly. “Did you recognize him?”

Hyunjin huffs, sinking back with his head resting against the driver’s side window. “No. He looked familiar though, like I’ve seen him before. I feel like he was there when Jisung took me to meet Jeongin.”

Changbin raises his eyebrows, letting go of Hyunjin’s wrist. “Do you think he’s a S.T.R.A.Y?”

The possibility of that seems fairly high, doesn’t it? But the man hadn’t seemed like an agent. He was certainly in shape, but not like the overtly trained agents. And granted, Hyunjin certainly shouldn’t be basing his standard on his love for Minho’s thighs and his polite appreciation for Changbin’s arms, but this man seemed different. 

“I don’t think he’s a field agent,” he admits. Changbin swears darkly under his breath, so Hyunjin adds, “Though, I’m not sure how much that helps anything…” 

Changbin shakes his head, pushing his hair back when it falls over his eyes. “No, it helps a lot. The majority of Minho’s interactions are with field agents, because he is one. Jisung is an exception, because he used to mentor him, and Jeongin just comes as a byproduct of that because they’re dating and Minho is too polite to tell Jisung that he really doesn’t know Jeongin all that well.”

Minho? Too polite? Some of his skepticism must show, because Changbin laughs easily. “I know what you’re thinking, but Jisung and Minho are different. They just clicked on a different level, really understood each other from the beginning. If soulmates were real, Minho and Jisung would definitely be the definition of them.”

That’s strangely sweet of Changbin to say, as protective as he is when it comes to Minho. “So Jisung and Minho were before you and Minho?”

Changbin stares at him strangely. “No. I’ve known Minho the longest—apart from Chan, of course, since he was the one to recruit him—and Jisung is probably a close second. Also, Jeongin, but that’s only by proxy.” Before Hyunjin can open his mouth to ask what  _ that  _ means, Changbin snorts. “Sungie really brought his boyfriend to a meeting with his mentor. Makes me wonder if he went with Jeongin to meet Chan.”

Hyunjin furrows his brow, thinking back to his first meeting with Jeongin. Ironically enough, it wasn’t more than an hour after he first met Jisung, but the youngest hadn’t even mentioned being Chan’s mentee. Actually, he hadn’t even mentioned Chan at all, come to think of it. He catches Changbin’s inquisitive looks and shakes his head. He doesn’t need to worry Changbin any more than he already is—it probably isn’t a big deal, right? It’s not like Jeongin was obligated to tell Hyunjin his life story after meeting him for the first time.

“How does it help?” Hyunjin asks, shoving those thoughts for another time. Changbin sighs, slowly exhaling. 

“I can only think of three non-field agents that Minho has worked with closely enough for them to know that he knows more than most agents here,” the elder admits, voice hushed. “Honestly though, I can’t say that I see Jisung selling Minho out—or joining the Syndicate.”

“Which means that Jeongin wouldn’t either?” While he phrases it like a question, Hyunjin has his own doubts about the  _ maknae  _ of Chan’s team. They make up the youngest agents of S.T.R.A.Y, often dubbed S.T.R.A.Y Kids by the others, but Jeongin in particular is the very youngest. He reminds Hyunjin of a fox, always sly and never really saying what he means. The kid is probably the best at lying—apart from Minho, but Minho is a terrible liar when it comes to people who really know him—and the most likely to get away with anything. 

Changbin shrugs. “Probably not. I will admit that I haven’t worked with him at all, but Minho hasn’t mentioned anything suspicious about him.” 

Oh, so he’s  _ good _ , Hyunjin realizes. If he’s managed to evade suspicion even from Minho, the man who doesn’t even trust his partner despite practically working together twenty four-seven, then Jeongin must really be good. 

Still, he tries to give their youngest the benefit of doubt. There still is a possibility that it isn’t him—after all, Chan’s new informal partner is still there. Informal, only because the younger of the pair isn’t a field agent, but really, they’re as close as it gets. Hyunjin knows there’s some history behind their partnership with Minho, so that isn’t all that far fetched either. 

Changbin must come to the same conclusion, locking eyes with Hyunjin as they speak at the same time. 

“Kim Seungmin.”

* 🗡 . ☣ . ☠ *

_ Training with Minho is the nightmare Hyunjin knows it would be. His partner is relentless, and has a truly endless stamina as he pushes Hyunjin through five hours of training. He doesn’t mention that night at all, not that it really was a big deal, in Hyunjin’s opinion. To take Seo Changbin’s words at face value, Minho was going through something, probably had a little too much to drink for a working night, and then settled in for the night. Hyunjin ending up stuck on his bunk for an hour was just a byproduct—he can’t blame Minho for trying to seek out some warmth what with his lack of pajamas, or clothes for that matter, and bed sheets.  _

_ Hyunjin had managed to get back to his bunk after carefully worming his way to the foot of the mattress and crawling over Minho’s feet. He has never been more grateful that the bunk bed is unused enough that it is still quiet as he climbs up the ladder. _

_ Now, though, his greatest regret is agreeing to train with Minho. It’s been a good month of working with him, and Hyunjin thinks he could never get used to the rigor the elder covets. He is sore in places he didn’t know it was possible to be.  _

_ “Minho!” Chan’s voice isn’t particularly loud, but Hyunjin is so high strung that it feels loud anyway. Minho turns around to greet their team leader—Hyunjin takes the opportunity to sink to the floor. _

_ Or he would, if Minho hadn’t wrapped an arm around his waist before he could so much as bend his knees. The elder gives him a weird look, arm tightening slightly and inadvertently pulling Hyunjin closer as he talks to Chan.  _

_ What’s up with that, Hyunjin wonders as he watches Chan politely inform Minho that the training ring is now reserved for him and Jeongin.  _

_ Ah yes, Jeongin.  _

_ Their team’s maknae and the only one that Hyunjin can’t get a read on. Even Minho is easier to figure out, simply because he’s so transparent without trying. Plus, Hyunjin thinks he has an advantage, what with Minho being his partner and all that. Not that he’s known Minho for too long at all at this point, but still. He thinks that Minho’s interactions with Changbin gave away enough about the kind of person he is for Hyunjin to not have to worry about whether Minho can be trusted or not. _

_ “Ah, you must be Minho’s new partner,” Chan says, turning to him instead. Hyunjin nods once, after glancing at Minho. This must be why his partner didn’t let him flop to the floor in an undignified manner. “Hyunjae, right?” _

_ Minho smiles tightly. “Nope.” He doesn’t offer the correct name either, an awkward silence settling over the three of them at that. Chan nods once, clearly picking up on something else, turning back to Hyunjin. _

_ “Sorry, I’m a little bad with names, I think,” he admits, ignoring Minho’s scoff. His arm tightens around Hyunjin’s waist, pulling him even closer. At this point, Minho might as well be hidden by Hyunjin, from the way he has positioned them.  _

_ It’s only when Hyunjin feels the slightest tremors in Minho’s hand that he realizes this is as much for Minho as it is for Hyunjin, though he has no idea why Minho would react this way to Chan. _

_ Hyunjin takes pity on Chan—and the situation in general; he wants to get Minho out of there as soon as possible, whether for answers or his partner’s sanity, he still doesn’t know—and holds his hand out politely. “Hwang Hyunjin, actually. But you were close. We’ve also already met before. When you showed me the training ring.” _

_ Minho snorts, without looking up from the floor where he’s toeing at a hole in the training mat. Hyunjin reaches back to place his free hand on the elder’s wrist, though he isn’t entirely sure why he does it. Peacemaking, maybe? He certainly doesn’t want the situation to escalate in any way, especially since he can sense that there is some kind of tension between Chan and Minho. Neither of them seem particularly happy to see each other. At least Minho’s fingers stop shaking like that, Hyunjin was a bit worried. _

_ To be entirely fair to Minho, Chan had seemed more pleasant the first time around when he had just been showing Hyunjin around. He wonders if it has something to do with his partner and makes a note to talk to Minho about it later. _

_ He misses something though and the next second he knows, Minho is pulling him from there, half dragging him up the stairs. He ends up leading them to the wrong room in the end, a small study type room that doesn’t look quite like tech support’s rooms or the other agents, but still isn’t modern enough to match the industrial feel of their room.  _

_ Oh, it’s Changbin’s room. _

_ Minho doesn’t appear to be happy to see his former partner though. He glares at Changbin, who raises his eyebrows dismissively from where he’s sitting on the sofa, typing on a laptop. “What do you want?” _

_ “What’s Chan playing at?” _

_ Changbin frowns, setting the laptop on the coffee table in front of him, standing up slowly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about; I haven’t talked to him since the last debrief—actually, I haven’t even seen him since then. What happened?” _

_ Hyunjin stays quiet, unsure of whether this is his place to speak or not. Minho might be his partner, but he doesn’t know the elder all that well at all. As for Changbin, he seems nice enough but—yet again—Hyunjin does not know him well enough to know whether his interruptions would be appreciated here or not. He leans toward the latter at seeing Minho tense.  _

_ “He showed up at training,” Minho mutters darkly, throwing himself on the sofa, Changbin and Hyunjin share a look, Changbin’s soft smile achingly sweet as he turns back to Minho fondly. That’s another thing he’s noticed—Minho practically  _ melts  _ in Changbin’s presence. Changbin is equally soft with Minho, and as much as Hyunjin thinks his growing attraction to Minho is a problem, he can’t help but find their interactions adorable. It’s just so obvious that Changbin cares insanely so for Minho, and the elder is the type to have his walls up all the time—it’s endearing to see him let them down so easily around Changbin. _

_ Changbin tilts his head slightly, questioning. “He showed and pretended he didn’t know who Hyunjin was.” _

_ Hyunjin thinks it’s a miracle Minho even knows who he is, given how little they actually talk to each other. Changbin must sense his skepticism because he shakes his head at the youngest in the room, turning back to Minho. “That isn’t a problem, is it?” _

_ “He made his point extremely clear,” Minho mumbles, falling forward onto his stomach, face smushed into a throw pillow. “I got the point too, it’s not like I pushed him or anything. What does he get from doing this?” _

_ “Maybe he really doesn’t know,” Changbin offers, but it’s clear he doesn’t buy it either. Whatever point was made between them must have been serious enough that they all still hold some kind of grudge from it. “Or, more likely, he has a mission for you two and didn’t want to be upfront about it.” _

_ This gets Hyunjin’s attention. “A mission?” _

_ Changbin nods, picking up the laptop and patting Minho’s butt to get him to take up less space so the other two can sit down. Minho doesn’t move, shooting him a weak, but cheeky smirk. Changbin rolls his eyes, sitting down on Minho’s back anyway, ignoring the elder’s groans in pain.  _

_ Hyunjin settles for perching himself on the armrest by Minho’s head, just so he can see the screen. He doesn’t want to risk getting tissues shoved in his mouth or something if he were to sit on Minho.  _

_ Not that he had any plans of doing that! Granted, he would love to, and he thinks Minho wouldn’t mind if they were closer, especially considering that the elder appears to like skinship a little more than he likes to outwardly show that he does and because Hyunjin just really wants to get to know him better. _

_ Changbin angles the screen so Hyunjin can see it, either intentionally ignoring Minho and acknowledging Hyunjin as the brains of the plan or just to get Minho to sit up properly. “Jisung already mentioned an uptake in the traffic to the server—the last time that happened, on this kind of scale, was back when the agency was still starting out and everyone saw S.T.R.A.Y as a threat.” His free hand falls to Minho’s hair, tugging on the single braid he always has in it. “There’s also been an increase in agent disappearances—files going missing, the agents themselves physically disappearing, and the number of cases the police have been handling has increased too.” _

_ Hyunjin raises an eyebrow. “Do the police cases have anything in common?” _

_ Changbin clicks his tongue, hand stilling in Minho’s hair. “It  _ would  _ be easier if there was a commonality, but the only thing I can come up with is some kind of serum that the autopsies found in the dead victims bloodstreams.” _

_ “A serial killer?” Minho mumbles, voice muffled by the pillow. “That’s not big enough for the agency, the police aren’t that stupid, they should be able to handle it.” A beat of silence, the ticking clock awkwardly loud. Changbin pinches Minho’s neck. “No offense.” _

_ Hyunjin rolls his eyes. He knows what Minho is trying to say, and anyway, he’s a S.T.R.A.Y agent now too. He knows how both works and he gets what the elder is trying to say, even if he lacks tact. “It’s not a serial killer, then.” A serial killer would have patterns, at any rate. This seems far more experimental. “Is the serum a drug or something else?”  _

_ Something about the situation seems familiar, like there are parts of it he could recognize if he could just think a little faster. Like words on the tip of his tongue, a memory sits on the tip of his mind, unwilling to tip over into the realm of understanding and remembering.  _

_ Changbin shrugs. “Don’t know. The chemists out there haven’t figured it out yet, and your forensics partner is still on the warpath. A vendetta against some Sejoon…?” _

_ Hyunjin snorts, covering his laugh with a hand. Of course, Chaeyoung would never pass up an opportunity to knock Seojoon down a peg. He is in no position to blame her—Seojoon deserves it, of course—but he does wish she would get around to investigating this too.  _

_ Minho clears his throat, abruptly jerking Hyunjin from his reminiscing. His partner flashes a fake smile at him before scowling. Changbin pinches Minho’s neck again, the elder slapping his best friend in retaliation.  _

_ Hyunjin blinks twice. “What?” _

_ Changbin shakes his head. “Never mind that. We can check with our chemists and see if they know something—assuming that this is why Chan felt the need to bless you with his presence.” _

_ Minho scoffs, turning onto his side, throwing Changbin behind his back with the movement, legs resting over the side of Minho’s ribcage. “Blessed are we,” he mutters darkly, glaring at the coffee table so intensely Hyunjin thinks it could burst into flames. _

_ He can’t let this go though, as much as he respects both Changbin and Minho, there’s always this lingering feeling of being left in the dark when it comes to them—and they never give him straight answers, not even for things as simple as whether they are dating or not. _

_ Well, okay, maybe Hyunjin only asked Changbin about that, but he had just laughed, so what else was he supposed to think? _

_ The situation with Chan and a potential new mission—Hyunjin’s first with just Minho and not an entire time—means that they need to be on the same page. He needs to be able to understand where Minho is coming from and why he reacts the way he does.  _

_ He bites the bullet. “What happened with Chan?” _

* 🗡 . ☣ . ☠ *

Changbin knows more than he’s letting on. Hyunjin can tell even without having known the elder for too long—his reaction to the whole thing with Minho gives it away. There is no way that someone as protective of Minho would just let him get captured by the Syndicate—or Kim Seungmin, apparently—without batting an eye. Even if he trusts Minho as easily as Hyunjin knows he does, there’s no way he wouldn’t be worried.

“Okay, what’s wrong?” Changbin asks, locking Minho and Hyunjin’s dorm room door behind them. He reaches for the safe immediately, and Hyunjin isn’t surprised to find that his partner’s best friend knows the password—134340—even if he is surprised by what Changbin takes out. The elder swipes through the tablet, the room’s lights abruptly shutting off. Hyunjin jumps in surprise, arms flailing.

He thinks Changbin does something else, but he can’t see what it is. The lights turn back on the next second, dimmer than before though.

He sets the tablet back in the safe before closing and locking it up once more. “Jisung had it made when Minho said that they were watching him.”

“Who?”

Changbin leans against the desk. “The Syndicate. Or, Seungmin, I guess.”

There’s still something that doesn’t add up—if it is Seungmin, why has the chemist shown zero interest in Hyunjin? He should have recognized him, or something at least, but the chemist seemed to be entirely clueless. Not to mention he and Seungmin have gotten along perfectly well so far; they had even gone out to get lunch together once and he hadn’t asked Hyunjin about work or anything. 

Plus, there is no real motive for Seungmin to go after Minho. 

“Yeah,” Changbin sighs. “It doesn’t make sense to me either.”

Hyunjin runs through their conversation once more, sinking back onto Minho’s bunk, now covered in mint green sheets and a fluffy pillow in the shape of a cat paw. It’s so endearing, to see Minho properly settling in and making this room more than just a place he sometimes sleeps. “What did he tell you? You weren’t that worried when you came to get me, just irritated.”

Changbin doesn’t deny the second half of the statement. “He said he was going to go take care of something and that I had nothing to worry about. I told him if he didn’t come back safely I would go to Yongbok—and before you ask, no, I can’t tell you about him; that’s Minho’s story to tell—and he agreed. You have to understand that he used to do this all the time before, I hated it, but I couldn’t stop him.”

Hyunjin frowns, hugging the cat paw pillow to his chest. “Do what?”

“Disappear.” Changbin sighs deeply, running a hand through his hair. The edges are close cropped from the undercut he sported in a previous mission, but the frustration is evident. “It took me forever to convince him to tell me before he did, so I thought it was just something like that. He hasn’t done this since he met you though.”

There’s a thoughtful look in Changbin’s eyes that Hyunjin can’t discern the reasoning behind. He assumes it is a nod to how little he knows and how time consuming getting him up to speed has been, but that isn’t really what he and Minho talk about.

To be fair, they don’t really talk all that much. It’s easy to be around Minho, yeah, but if they aren’t planning for missions, then they don’t talk. Sometimes they end up sitting on Minho’s bunk, next to each other, with Hyunjin going over previous case files and Minho, looking over his shoulder while going through his own files. Hyunjin doesn’t know what they are, and to be entirely fair, he hasn’t asked either. Minho is entitled to his privacy, after all. Being partners doesn’t entitle him to everything Minho knows, after all. 

The only things he has really learned about Minho from their past few months together are that the elder goes to sleep early and wakes up insanely early, tries his best to be healthy, and is clearly touch starved. That last little tidbit of information is something Hyunjin has decided on his own, from seeing the way Minho and Changbin interact, and he personally thinks it’s adorable, if a bit sad. 

Maybe it has something to do with Yongbok, whoever that is. 

“So you didn’t question it.” It isn’t a question, not one that needs an answer anyway, Hyunjin thinks. Everyone struggles with change in their lives, and if Minho had put up with Hyunjin for the five or so months they have been working together, it is understandable that he would need a break from the new normal he and Hyunjin have created together. 

Changbin shakes his head. “No, I did. You changed him; he was happier with staying. He didn’t look like he was two seconds away from running all the time.”

Hyunjin doesn’t know what to say to that. He doesn’t think he’s done all that much for Minho, not the way the elder has taken him under his wing and helped train him, but something tells him Changbin is talking about something else altogether.

Like what happened with Chan.

* 🗡 . ☣ . ☠ *

_ “We’re not talking about that,” Minho snaps. Changbin winces apologetically at Hyunjin, pushing at Minho’s shoulder to get him to realize.  _

_ “Chan and Minho—”  _

_ Minho sits up sharply, tossing Changbin to the side with the motion. “We’re  _ not  _ talking about it, Changbin.” _

_ This time, Changbin glares back. “Just because you don’t want to talk about your side of things doesn’t mean I can’t talk about mine, Minho,” he states quietly. “He deserves to know, especially since he’s been putting up with your attitude for the past month. You don’t have to like it—you don’t even have to listen if you don’t want to, but I  _ will  _ tell him what happened.” _

_ Minho scowls, but Hyunjin notices that it has lost its heat. “Don’t blame me if he leaves after,” he mutters under his breath, but Hyunjin still hears it.  _

_ Ouch. _ __   
  


_ “Chan rejected Minho,” Changbin starts bluntly. Hyunjin chokes on his own saliva, acutely aware of Minho’s hand patting his back, lingering even after he’s caught his breath again. He tries to look at his partner, but Minho refuses to meet his eyes, staring stubbornly at Changbin. Hyunjin settles for moving Minho’s hand from his back to his lap, lacing their fingers together.  _

_ This gets Minho to look at him, eyes wide and the faintest pink on his cheeks.  _

_ “I’m sorry,” Hyunjin murmurs, squeezing the elder’s hand lightly. Minho just stares back at him, lips slightly parted. Hyunjin takes the opportunity to look back at him, at the perfect slope of his nose, at the slight pout that he can’t help but want to kiss away, and at the way his eyes sparkle in Changbin’s dimly lit room. _

_ He watches pink creep over his cheeks, transfixed at how  _ pretty  _ Minho is.  _

_ How could Chan ever have even thought of rejecting him? _

_ And then he realizes that this means Minho used to  _ like  _ Chan. That Hyunjin is nothing like Chan. Not that it matters, there’s clearly something between Changbin and Minho, and Hyunjin does not want to get between that, even if he is confused about where they stand in their relationship—it’s theirs, after all, and doesn’t include him in any way. _

_ Changbin clears his throat. Hyunjin flushes, looking away and nodding back at him to continue. “Right. Chan started acting weird after that though; he either sent Minho on way too many missions to handle in a healthy way or just straight up refused to send him on any.” _

_ Minho looks at Changbin thoughtfully, head tilted slightly. He tugs Hyunjin down, off the armrest and onto the sofa. He shifts to the side a little so that Hyunjin doesn’t land in his lap, but then, since there isn’t enough space, his legs are still thrown over his lap. Hyunjin stiffens immediately, ready to move aside, but Minho just settles back down, hand loosely holding onto the younger’s forearm.  _

_ Changbin ignores all of this, electing to continue as if none of it is happening right in front of him, but Hyunjin doesn’t miss the way he nudges.  _

_ What he does miss is the way Minho flushes pink to his ears and looks away, only feeling the elder’s arm tightening slightly between his waist and the back of the armrest of the sofa.  _

_ “Anyway,” Changbin drawls, turning slightly to face them, his laptop folded forward slightly. “My point is, Chan and Minho don’t see each other unless it’s out of absolute necessity. It’s  _ awkward,  _ Minho, but I get it.” _

_ Hyunjin doesn’t. Actually, he has more questions than he started with, but he doesn’t think asking Changbin and Minho why Chan would even think of rejecting Minho would help them figure anything out, so he doesn’t say anything. “What does this serum do?” He asks instead. “Any noticeable biological effects or psychological effects?” _

_ Changbin shakes his head, looking back down at the laptop. “No, the report just says that there were ‘traces of an unknown chemical compound’ in the victims’ bloodstreams. The intent might not have even been to kill, come to think of it.” _

_ Minho tilts his head to the side, hair brushing Hyunjin’s bare shoulder and the edge of his sleeve. Hyunjin shivers slightly, the elder shooting him a questioning look at that and leaning closer as if he genuinely thinks that Hyunjin is cold. Changbin hides a snicker when Hyunjin turns red, leaning over to fondly brush Minho’s wavy hair out of his eyes.  _

_ “What if we test the serum out?” Minho suggests, leaning back fully so that he’s resting his head against the same armrest Hyunjin’s back is leaning against. “Then we would know what the serum does and confirm the intent.” _

_ Changbin rolls his eyes. “Angel, I love you, but we’re not testing out a serum that a possible murderer could be using to torment their victims.” _

_ Minho pouts slightly, almost subconsciously, and Hyunjin bites his tongue to keep himself from doing something stupidly embarrassing, like cooing at how adorable his partner looks, unaware of how cute he is.  _

_ And Hyunjin doesn’t want to be the one to say it, but the way that Changbin calls Minho angel is just—for the lack of any better words—the most adorable thing ever. It’s so soft and sweet, Hyunjin just really wants what they have. _

_ “No, that’s a good point though,” Hyunjin adds. “If someone is using it to torture their victims, then there’s a chance that there would be psychological damage, wouldn’t there? Some kind of brain scan could show those effects of that torture, right?” _

_ Changbin is silent for a moment, the sound of the laptop keys the only noise in the room. “You might be onto something,” he finally says, turning the laptop to face the two of them. “I don’t know what any of this means though. Min?” _

_ Minho sits up slightly, taking the laptop from Changbin and setting it in Hyunjin’s lap, since his legs are thrown over Minho’s. “MRI scans show significant damage to the prefrontal cortex,” he murmurs. “Although, I’m not sure if that was intentional or a side effect of the serum. It’s still worth noting though.” He turns slightly to get more comfortable, curling closer to Hyunjin in the process as he scrolls through the file. “Actually, I think this might be the most interesting—Binnie, could you write this down?” He waits for Changbin to pull out his phone and nod before continuing to read. “See, there’s only one victim who didn’t die—they aren’t S.T.R.A.Y though, some other co-agency, maybe? But their described symptoms match those visible from the autopsies.” _

_ He turns the screen back to Changbin, pointing at the scan. “Increased agitation, likely a sign of anxiety, sweating, even affections in the supplementary motor area—that’s the medial frontal lobe network—that could be a sign of psychosis.” _

_ Hyunjin just stares at Minho, eyes wide and lips parted in shock. Changbin nods, typing it out unsurprised as Minho continues to analyze the victims. “In terms of the serum, a general summary would include that common symptoms include nervousness, insomnia, agitation, anxiety, sweating, vision problems, numbness, psychosis, dizziness, headaches and weight loss.” _

_ Minho nods. “They  _ could.  _ It’s not guaranteed though, but these are the commonalities between them. Take it with a grain of salt though, because it’s been a while since I’ve done this.” _

_ Changbin saves the note on his phone, locking it with a password and a complicated retrieval process before he rebukes Minho’s doubts. “Yeah, but this was what you studied, so it’s not like things have changed majorly since then. I’m sure it will be close enough that we won’t have to worry.” _

_ Hyunjin is still staring at Minho slack jawed, but this time, the elder notices. He turns to face Hyunjin, unconsciously hiding behind his hair. “What?” He doesn’t meet the younger’s eyes, staring at his shoulder instead. _

_ Hyunjin shakes his head. “That was so cool, what the heck?” _

_ Minho smiles unsurely. “That’s my job?” _

_ “You’re a pathologist and a field agent?” Hyunjin is well aware of the awe in his voice, but he doesn’t care. Minho seems so conscious about this, let him know that his skills are insanely cool and incredibly interesting.  _

_ Changbin laughs quietly in the background, but neither of them notice. Minho shakes his head, disheveling his hair. “No? I’m only certified as a trauma nurse, but I had wanted to go into surgery instead before.” _

_ He doesn’t say before what, but Hyunjin gets it. He tucks Minho’s hair back behind his ear, grinning softly at Minho’s wide eyes and pink tipped cheeks. Absolutely adorable. “That’s still really cool, okay?” _

_ Minho doesn’t say anything, just stares at him blinking with those sparkly eyes twice before he nods once. “Okay?” _

_ Hyunjin nods happily. “Okay!” _

_ And just like that, something shifts. Minho is more receptive to Hyunjin’s suggestions. Changbin is right—Chan does assign them their first solo mission together, free of other agents from the division. And Hyunjin doesn’t necessarily think he’s qualified to, but Minho trains him to get better at that too. _

_ It’s simple enough, infiltrating a hidden laboratory to figure out whether they have been manufacturing the serum themselves or have been the victims of infiltration by the real culprits.  _

_ Minho leads the entire time, right up until they have to jump from the vent and the elder looks down, freezing. Hyunjin leans over slowly, chin barely pressing into the elder’s shoulder as he too looks down. “Minho?” _

_ The elder has his eyes squeezed shut, hands squeezed into fists so tight that his knuckles are turning white. Hyunjin reaches around his waist to hold his hands, prying the fists apart. He notices the size difference between their hands for the first time then, but it isn’t the time for this. “I can jump first,” he offers quietly, even though there isn’t enough space for him to go around Minho to do so. If his partner agrees, they can figure something out, he knows. _

_ “Will you?” Minho murmurs, voice shaking slightly. He sounds two seconds away from bursting into that kind of hysterical laughter that will give them away instantly, so Hyunjin nods.  _

_ He’s right about there not being enough space though, because even with Minho pressing himself against the side of the duct, there isn’t enough space for Hyunjin to fit on the other side. They have a little more space overhead, but it’s not like that’s feasible, right? _

_ Wrong.  _

_ “If you can climb over from on top, you should fit,” Minho mutters. “Even with your ridiculously long legs, you spider.” _

_ Hyunjin huffs a muffled laugh, covered by his hand. He tries to ignore the first part of the statement, focusing instead on the insult. “It’s not my fault you’re short,” he mumbles, even as Minho scoots backwards, lying down on his back. _

_ “Changbinnie’s short,” Minho retorts mildly. “You just have long legs. I have good proportions.” This is weird, isn’t it? Him climbing over Minho, the two of them pressed chest to chest in this stupid duct?  _

_ Hyunjin winces. “Doesn’t it make more sense for you to be on top?” What he means is, wouldn’t it be easier that way? _

_ Minho raises an eyebrow when he doesn’t move. “Why can’t you be on top?” _

_ Hyunjin flushes. There’s no way Minho hasn’t picked up on the implications of what he’s saying, right? “It’s not that I can’t—I mean, I don’t mind but, it’s just easier the other way, isn’t it?” He manages to sputter out, still flustered, and thinking about the other implied meaning of his statement. _

_ Minho shrugs. “I’m fine with either, honestly,” he admits. “I’ve never cared much, depends on the situation.” There’s a slight smirk playing at his lips, despite the fear of the heights getting the best of him with the situation, eyes darkening slightly as he looks Hyunjin up and down in the dimly lit duct. _

_ Oh, he definitely  _ knows. 

_ Hyunjin pouts, biting his lips as he tries to figure out how to maneuver them from here. He thinks it would be easier for Minho to slide backwards if he was on top, rather than Hyunjin trying to climb over him, but then again, it’s pretty much the same thing he has a problem with, not that he can say that. _

_ Plus, judging by Minho’s catlike smirk, his partner already knows. _

_ “Stop overthinking it, Hyunjin,” Minho says, voice softer than before. “It isn’t weird unless you make it weird. Now, hurry up. Jisungie thinks we’re taking too long.” _

_ They definitely are.  _

_ Hyunjin sighs, inching his forearms by Minho’s head, using his height to his advantage and setting his feet on either side of Minho’s, holding his weight up in the plank position he has created. Minho squishes his lips up at him, blowing the younger a mocking kiss. Hyunjin flushes, almost falling in his flustered attempt to get away. _

_ “You have to slide back as far as you can,” he instructs, trying to ignore how hot his face feels, but Minho is already doing just that. He stops at Hyunjin’s torso, rising up slightly, hands holding Hyunjin’s waist and pushing it higher up, until his back is pressed against the top of the duct. _

_ Something about Minho’s strength and how effortless that was sends a shiver down his spine. He accidentally bites his tongue, flinching slightly.  _

_ Minho’s hands slide lower, down to his hips, as he scoots down. Hyunjin tightens his core, getting what Minhos is trying to do. It’s not much better than what he was thinking of, but it does take some of the tension out of the situation. Hyunjin holds his breath as Minho slides out, holding Hyunjin up with one hand as he turns to face the duct the way Hyunjin had been before, letting go gently when he is in position.  _

_ Hyunjin exhales sharply, sinking back down onto the bottom of the duct with a sigh. Minho was quick enough, and he kept things professional, but there’s a part of Hyunjin that still finds the entire thing too intimate to not dwell on. He pulls his feet back up too, sliding the opened vent cover to the side. Minho settles behind him as he leans forward, holding his weight up with his hands braced against the sides of the open vent.  _

_ He drops through easily enough, landing softly on his feet. He looks back up to Minho’s frightened expression and bites his lip. Jisung promised them that the hallway would stay empty for the next hour, but they should hurry anyway.  _

_ “Minho,” he calls out softly. “If you jump, I’ll catch you.” _

_ Minho balks at that, shaking his head wildly, hair looking extra fluffy after. “I’m not jumping!” He hisses back.  _

_ Hyunjin looks around, sighing. The duct is at least eight feet above them. He stands at a good 5’10”. If Minho hangs down, he’ll probably be able to carry him down. “Just hang down, at least,” he instructs. “I can handle it from there.” This is better than what he had in mind before, with Minho jumping, he thinks, at least.  _

_ Minho raises an eyebrow skeptically. “It’s too high,” he mutters, but the way his hands shake gives away his false bravado. Hyunjin shakes his head. _

_ “I got you, okay?” _

_ Minho eases himself down slowly, but his hands are shaking far too much to hold himself up. He slips, eyes squeezing shut as soon as he does, just as Hyunjin wraps his arms around the elders waist, pulling him close. Minho ends up instinctively wrapping his legs around Hyunjin, clinging to him like a trembling koala. _

_ Minho’s breathing is elevated, but he doesn’t seem to be actively panicking anymore, just a little stressed out. Hyunjin pats his hair the way he remembers Changbin doing so, hoping that it helps calm him down, even if he isn’t Changbin. Minho’s thighs stop squeezing the life out of his waist soon enough, dropping from where they’re wrapped around it. Hyunjin mourns the loss of the warmth briefly before mentally slapping himself, a reminder to keep things professional and stay focused. _

_ Minho pulls away almost two whole minutes later, longer than Hyunjin expected him to hold on, but sooner than he would have preferred.  _

_ Standing there, in the laboratory hallway with the lights off, it shouldn’t be so obvious that there even is a height difference between the two of them, let alone one that’s maybe two inches. Still, Hyunjin finds it endearing that Minho stands on his toes before lowering onto his heels as he unwinds his arms from around Hyunjin’s shoulders. _

_ Privately, he is glad that Minho let go when he did, he doesn’t think he’s strong enough to hold the elder up for that long. Yet. Something about this entire situation may have temporarily inspired him to work out more outside of mandatory training sessions, though he doubts that motivation will last. He just wants to be healthy, okay?  _

_ Minho leads them to the side of the lab, a small fridge with the different serums that the scientists were likely researching. Hyunjin remembers Changbin saying something about the serums being reddish in color, but not like blood in nature. It’s still in the back of his mind somewhere, that there is something off about this situation.  _

_ Where has he heard of this before? Why is it so familiar? _

_ And then he sees it.  _

_ The faintly glowing red serum in clear glass bottles. The same red from the bottles in that shed he and Chaeyoung had found before he was recruited. _

_ The timing strikes him as suspicious now, but he doesn’t think too much of it. After all, why would he? It’s S.T.R.A.Y’s job to know what’s going on and how to intervene, if necessary.  _

_ “Minho,” he hisses, voice as quiet as he can make it but still loud enough for his partner to hear. “That’s the one Changbin was talking about.” _

_ Minho turns around, hand pausing where he is holding the refrigerator handle. “How do you know?” _

_ Hyunjin shakes his head. “It’s a long story, but I recognize it from a past case.” _

_ Minho tilts his head curiously, wide eyes sparkling. He looks like an adorable puppy, with his hair flopping to the side as he does so and— _

_ And this is not the time, Hwang Hyunjin, because they are still on a mission.  _

_ “The case with serial killers and sexual predators,” he explains hurriedly. “The one right before I got recruited by S.T.R.A.Y.” _

_ Minho lets go of the refrigerator door. “You never talk about that one,” he murmurs, as if he doesn’t constantly tell Hyunjin that he  _ talks too much.  _ “That’s interesting though, that S.T.R.A.Y would react so quickly.” _

_ Hyunjin frowns. “Maybe his suspicion isn’t as unfounded as he thought it was?  _

_ In their ears, Jisung complains about them taking too long and needing to hurry up if they planned on getting out of there tonight, through the same vent, or if they were going to try and squeeze into the refrigerator and pretend to be a vial of serum. Hyunjin scoffs at the suggestion. “It’s so clear you were his mentor.” _

_ Minho raises an eyebrow but doesn’t even look up from where he’s carefully placing the serums into the cold cases Jisung had given them specifically to transport the serum, in case the change in temperature leads the proteins in the serum to denature. “Sungie and I are opposites, for the most part.” _

_ Hyunjin snorts. “That’s so far from the truth, oh my god. You guys are the same person in different bodies. You’re him, if he was an extrovert with trust issues, and he’s you, if you were a tiny squirrel sized pain in the neck introvert.” _

_ Jisung complains in his ear about that not sounding much like a compliment. Hyunjin ignores it. Just the other day, he caught Jisung with his (not adorable) cheeks stuffed with cheesecake, rather than at a mandatory training session with the rest of the team. _

_ So much for ‘fight better, think better.’ Hyunjin can think plenty well and he puts in the effort to try and figure out the minor details. Jisung doesn’t even seem to try to fight better.  _

_ “I’m not sure that’s a compliment,” Minho responds mildly, sealing the case and locking the refrigerator once he’s done. “Considering how poorly you two get along. Maybe if you said Changbinnie, because you two are close enough to be in love with each other in comparison to you and Jisungie.” _

_ Hyunjin pouts. Sure, he and Changbin get along, but it’s only because he really looks up to the elder. Not unlike the way he looks up to Minho for being so strong, but he also really admires Changbin’s mindset. In all honesty, he’s like the older brother Hyunjin never had. “I’m not in love with Changbin.” That would be awkward, especially since he still doesn’t know if Changbin and Minho are in love with each other—just that they do truly, genuinely love each other.  _

_ Minho shrugs, side eyeing him. “Would it be so bad if you were? Binnie’s very lovable.” The unspoken, ‘I would know,’ lingers, but Hyunjin pays it no mind.  _

You are too,  _ he thinks, seeing through Minho’s nonchalance. “I’m sure he is, but he’s not my type,” Hyunjin says, digging himself even deeper into this trap. You absolute fool, Hwang Hyunjin, you don’t even have a type. The last date you went on was a blind date with some friend of the dance captain’s, Jeon Jungkook, or someone. And he had openly told Hyunjin that he was in love with someone else.  _

_ Not that Hyunjin minded that much. Two or three, the number makes no difference, not as long as the feelings are there between them. In all honesty, he had never thought about any of this until meeting Minho. And Changbin, but he doesn’t think this would work too well given how purely platonic his feelings for Changbin are.  _

_ “Your type,” Minho echoes. It isn’t a question, but Hyunjin takes it as an invitation to continue screwing himself over. He’s already halfway there, might as well throw himself into it, right? _

_ “Yeah, he’s too short,” Hyunjin says. “Too cool, really. We wouldn’t get along well at all if we were to date. Plus I don’t think we’d be… compatible.” _

_ Minho shrugs. “He does both and neither so I don’t see compatibility being a huge issue.” _

_ Hyunjin chokes. On one hand, that’s  _ hot.  _ On the other, Minho  _ knows _ , so that’s definitely not ever going to happen. Even if he wanted it to, not that he does. Minho glances back, eyebrow raised nonchalantly. “It’s not that big of a deal, really. Are you going up first?” _

_ Was that what they had agreed on before? He can’t think straight, but nods anyway. Why did Minho have to spring something like this so unexpectedly on him? Hyunjin has a weak heart, you know. Be gentle with it, maybe?  _

_ “No, you are,” he mumbles a minute too late. “You’re shorter.” _

_ Minho mutters something under his breath that Hyunjin doesn’t catch about being too short. He lets Hyunjin manhandle him onto his shoulders, crawling through the vent easily enough from there. Hyunjin jumps and pulls himself up, half with his own strength and half with Minho’s grip around his biceps. _

_ Jisung guides them out of the vent again, leading the way to the van. No one gives them a second glance, and Hyunjin thinks he can thank the younger for having the foresight to disguise them as scientists, even if their lab coats look a little worse for wear from their time in the surprisingly dust free ducts.  _

_ And just like that, Hyunjin’s first mission is a sweeping success. _

* 🗡 . ☣ . ☠ *

He doesn’t push on the matter though, because it becomes clear quickly enough that there’s nothing in Minho’s past that would explain his present actions. Even  _ Yongbok,  _ whoever he is, doesn’t seem to play much of a role in this, but Changbin does make a note that Minho might have convinced himself to do this for him. He also tells Hyunjin that he doubts this theory and thinks it has more to do with Minho just being worried about Hyunjin, but that makes him feel weird so he glosses over it quickly, ignoring Changbin’s weird look for it. 

“In conclusion, Minho knew something was off about this whole situation and that’s why he came,” Hyunjin summarizes an hour later. “And you think that didn’t have anything to do with me.”

Changbin nods. “No offense, but you’re way too new to this to actually have subconsciously picked up any information or anything like that. You were more likely just bait for Minho in the first place.”

He knows Changbin is trying to make him feel better about this whole thing, but somehow, this makes him feel worse. Because there’s a difference between him being captured because the Syndicate is looking for S.T.R.A.Y agents to abduct and indoctrinate and being captured to draw out his partner. They’re supposed to have each other’s backs and instead, he’s become the very reason Minho is in trouble. Minho could be being tortured currently and it would be his fault for not letting the elder lead the mission. 

If they hadn’t split up…

“It still doesn’t add up,” Hyunjin admits. “Even if this is true, why would the Syndicate want Minho? Why not Chan? Why not a senior agent?”

If they really wanted to learn more about the organization, why wouldn’t they aim higher? Minho was as good as invisible in the records, despite his flawless record. Apart from S.T.R.A.Y Kids, he wasn’t the most well known agent at all.  _ Hyunjin  _ was more well known than him—granted, it is partly because he’s new, but they also recognize him as one of their own _ — _ and he hasn’t even been here for a full year yet. 

Changbin shrugs, tapping his fingers against the edge of the desk. “Min’s a ghost in the records,” he admits. “He tries to limit his interference and lets things play out, intervening at the last minute, if he thinks it’s necessary. He stays out of most reports that way, because he thinks it’ll protect someone else if they are traced back together.”

This is news to Hyunjin. Minho never struck him as the paranoid or meticulous type, moreso reckless and intimidating, while still being brilliant at thinking on his feet. But he was never the strategist, for all his intellect, simply because he’s too impatient to think things through. Clearly, they have switched roles this time around, because this is the most reckless Hyunjin has been and the most strategic he has seen Minho be. 

“The Syndicate has never shown any interest in S.T.R.A.Y Kids—or other S.T.R.A.Y agents—since their operations became known though,” Hyunjin points out. “They  _ are  _ new, right?” He twists the white and pink pillow in his hands, fluffing it back up for Minho. He sets it back against the pillows, smoothing the mint colored sheets around him with his palms. “None of the previous files mentioned any kind of vendetta from a vengeance fueled pseudo rival agency.”

“They are,” Changbin agrees, sighing. He sits down next to Hyunjin. “The only thing I can think of is that Minho knew more than he told me when he said he was going out.”

More about the Syndicate? Or Seungmin, if it was Seungmin?

Hyunjin will be the first to admit that the stress got to him and that he doesn’t remember as much from the situation as he thinks he should, but he also knows better than to frustrate himself with trying to draw those memories back. A hostage situation would stress anyone out, after all. He might be used to this line of work, but it still is stressful.

“If it was Seungmin,” Hyunjin starts slowly. “The serum. Seungmin is a chemist. Do you think Minho knows something about it?”

Changbin curses darkly. Hyunjin silently agrees. “Seungmin is compromised, then.” Changbin whistles lowly, realizing something much bigger at the same time that Hyunjin does.

“Chan is compromised.”

And there’s a terrifying thought, their team leader being compromised simply for trusting someone he had every right to trust. 

“Seungmin can’t be the mole though,” Hyunjin thinks out loud. “He doesn’t have clearance to access field agent files, the same way we don’t have access to the lab.”

Changbin clicks his tongue, standing up abruptly. “No, but we know someone who does.”

_ Han Jisung. _

Hyunjin makes a face, pouting. “What about Jeongin?” He isn’t serious. After all, he has his own reservations about Jeongin. 

“No, he’s too close to Chan,” Changbin shoots the suggestion down easily, and Hyunjin privately agrees. He and Jisung might not see eye to eye on just about anything, but he can admit that the younger cares about Minho _ — _ and he knows Minho cares about Jisung too. 

“Fine,” he grumbles, standing up too. “I’ll shower and then we can go see him?”

Changbin nods. “I’ll see what I can find in the meantime, if Minho left anything behind that could help us.”

Hyunjin leaves Changbin to sift through Minho’s laptop and minimalist personal items, once again lamenting the exhibitionist nature of the bathrooms as he undresses and showers. Thankfully, Changbin doesn’t come into the closet while he’s showering, and he’s able to change, grabbing a pair of boxers, shorts, and a purple hoodie that he doesn’t quite recognize but shrugs off. It fits okay, a little looser than what he normally wears.

Actually, it reminds him a little bit of the way Minho’s clothes would fit on him, the elder broader than he is. The length is about the same though, since it’s really just Hyunjin’s legs that make him (not) so much taller than his partner. 

Still, it’s comfortable, so he doesn’t think too much of it as he pulls the shorts on, drying the excess water from his hair with a towel. His hair is still damp after, but not dripping water, so he lets it be, slipping his shoes back on and joining Changbin by the front door.

“Find anything?”

Changbin looks him up and down, gaze lingering on the hoodie in a way that has Hyunjin wanting to cover his chest self consciously. He doesn’t even have anything to hide, but Changbin’s slight smirk makes him wonder if he’s forgetting something or making a mistake somehow. “No.”

Hyunjin forgets what his answer is for. “What?”

Changbin shakes his head, a faint smirk still playing on his lips. “Don’t worry about it. He was too thorough _ — _ I don’t think he left anything behind.”

On purpose, no doubt. 

Hyunjin shrugs, fixing the hoodie when Changbin looks away, straightening the sleeves. “Let’s go see Jisung then. Hopefully, he knows more about what’s going on than we do.”

Changbin fails to hide his laughter at the mention of Jisung, but Hyunjin doesn’t want to think about it. He’s had a long day _ — _ he just wants to figure this out, get Minho back safely, and get some rest. Maybe even cuddle with Minho if the elder isn’t too mad at him.

He needs to make this up to Minho, and if that means groveling, he can do it. This is his mess, no matter what Changbin has to say about it not being possible, and he is going to figure it out.

For Minho.

* 🗡 . ☣ . ☠ *

_ It takes them a lot longer to get to the point of being able to consider themselves equals. Minho clearly has a lot of baggage and Hyunjin has never been confrontational, barring their first meeting when he flat out asked Minho what his problem with the younger was. But when it comes to the complicated relationship between Minho and Changbin, he knows the least. _

_ Their first successful solo mission sets the precedent for another perfect record, one that Hyunjin takes more pride in than his investigative record.  _

_ He starts to hold his own better while sparring against Minho, and manages to outsmart Changbin a couple of times too. Changbin’s smile always makes him feel like he’s watching a proud dad or something, but still, how much the elder cares is endearing. _

_ Three months in, he learns that Minho doesn’t sleep too well, getting up and leaving their room in the middle of the night. And, okay, midnight isn’t all that late, but Minho usually tries to go to bed early. He asks Changbin about it, but the elder says that sometimes Minho just needs space, and that he’ll come to one of them if he needs anything. Hyunjin doesn’t understand it, but lets it go. After all, what else can he say? _

_ Imagine his surprise when he wakes up to Minho leaving one night, at one in the morning. He ends up following Minho out, with the intention of finding him in the training ring, but instead, finds him in a boxing ring. _

_ Hyunjin has ascended, this is it, this is his end: _

_ Minho’s shirtless, for one, which you know, wouldn’t be a problem, if he wasn’t covered in sweat with his stupid long wavy hair and incredibly sexy muscles, and yes! Hyunjin is extremely biased, but no one needs to know that. _

_ But then Minho turns around, and the slight view of his obliques pales in comparison to a set of sculpted abs and the snake that curls around the harsh white scar on his (incredibly built) left shoulder. _

_ Wow will Hyunjin be having whatever Minho is having. _

_ “Oh, Hyunjin?”’ _

_ His voice is husky, like he hasn’t spoken since waking up and forgot to clear his throat, raspy in the warmest way. Hyunjin is ascending, he’s seeing angels. _

_ Apparently, his reaction is concerning, because Minho leans closer, sweat dripping down his bangs. Hyunjin wants to push it out of the way. “Hyunjin?” _

_ Ah yes, he’s supposed to respond. “Yeah?” _

_ Minho drapes his forearms over the ring, tilting his head slightly, eyes innocently blinking down at him. “What are you doing here?” _

_ “Was worried about you,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “Can you teach me?”  _

_ He blames the close proximity to Minho’s tattoo for him blurting out the question the way that he does, frowning at the way Minho flushes. Combined with the sweat and Minho’s natural charisma, he looks feverish. Hyunjin raises a hand to his forehead, brushing his sweat soaked bangs to the side to check his temperature. Minho flinches, eyes squeezing shut at the sudden movement. _

_ Cute, like a rabbit. _

_ The tips of his ears are red too, but Hyunjin isn’t the nurse between them. For what it’s worth, he doesn’t think that Minho has a fever, and that the elevated heart rate, breathlessness, and flush are from the physical exertion is just from boxing. He tells Minho this with a hand on his shoulder, absentmindedly tracing the path the snake takes, intertwining with the scar in his skin.  _

_ Minho pulls away slowly when he realizes where Hyunjin’s hand is, but doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t even drop their eye contact, eyes filled with galaxies as Hyunjin stargazes for a moment out of time. _

_ Hyunjin thinks this is what makes him so alluring, aside his mysterious charm and overflowing charisma, his ability to draw people in without even blinking twice. _

_ (Though, his habit of blinking is adorable too, come to think of it.) _

_ “So?” He prompts, smirking when Minho blinks twice at him, the innocence a sharp contrast from what Hyunjin wants to do (consensually!) with his body. “Will you teach me?” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 𝐒.𝐓.𝐑.𝐀.𝐘 𝐀𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬:  
>  Name : Han Jisung  
>  Age : 23  
>  Height : 5'7"  
>  Blood Type : A+  
>  Code Name : HAN  
>  Affiliations : Lee Minho, Yang Jeongin  
> 
> 
> * 🗡 . ☣ . ☠ *
> 
> sorry for the long wait, i hope y'all are doing okay !! my mental health just kinda. dropped. and i really struggled to write for this fic and focus on the plot properly, so i haven't really been able to write much for this one, but. i've got this planned out fully now, so i think writing should be a bit easier. i also ended up getting distracted by a couple of other wips, which will be out once i finish this one !! as always, all thoughts and theories are much appreciated, i love seeing your thought process and theories are food for the soul !! i hope your week is kind to you, stay safe, and take care !

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/youkanstay) [soundtrack](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5A0PdDPn1HPquvAdEUV9Q4?si=4Q0j46tVTuugf6qsNINJlg)


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